When it rains
After dithering all day on Thursday, I called the sheriff’s office late in the afternoon. The dispatcher offered to send a deputy out to look at the dog and advise me on what my options were. While we were waiting for him to get there we brought the dog inside and tried to get him comfy in the upstairs bathroom. To make sure I had documentation of the dog’s condition, I took some more pictures.
Here’s one that more accurately shows how thin he was:
When the deputy — who looked to still be in high school (sign #47 that you’re old: you see “kids” doing jobs you think “grownups” should be doing) — arrived, I told him the dog’s story then led him upstairs to the bathroom. The dog cowered in the alcove, fearful to come over to his outstretched hand. I had to lift him and move him out where he could be fully seen.
“Yep,” the deputy said. “He’s in pretty bad shape.”
“So what are my options? I don’t know that the dog was abused. I don’t even know if Otis is still his owner, because the last proof that he had a beagle was a year ago. I already feel like everybody out here thinks I’m the city boy; I don’t want to be known as the city boy who sics the law on people when there’s a problem.”
“I heard that,” the deputy said. “About all I can do is call the dog catcher and have him come pick the dog up.”
My face fell.
“I’d hate to think of this guy in a cage,” I said.
One of the hardest things (for me) about fostering cats is knowing that when they leave our house they go to the pet store and get stuck in a tiny cage for days or weeks. It kills me to think about that (proof), even though I know it’s in their best interests to be there. Hell, look at how much room the chickens have. Most people have a chicken “run.” We have a chicken “yard.”
Which is about to get even bigger, once I start on that fence today.
“I know,” the deputy said. “You could try to place him somewhere else, the dog catcher is just the only thing I can do. No matter what, he shouldn’t go back to Otis.”
“I guess I need to talk to my wife about it.”
He nodded, and we left the bathroom. Once he was gone, I went back to the computer room to tell Robyn what he said, marveling over how I’d managed to survive a police encounter without getting tasered. Ultimately, we decided to find the dog a home, either through a no-kill shelter, a rescue organization, or using resources online. We were told by an officer of the law not to take the dog back to the last known owner, and that’s good enough for us. If you don’t like our decision, you should send me a long detailed email telling me just how wrong I am, because there’s nothing I value more than unsolicited advice from strangers.
We made a run to the grocery store and picked up canned food, dry food, bacon treats, shampoo, pee pads, a leash and collar, rawhide chews, and a big soft bed. When we put the canned food down in front of the dog, he fell on it with a ferocity I’ve never seen, and I’ve seen pigs being fed. He ate almost the whole (big) can, then I gave him a bath because he had some serious stank going on. Afterwards, he went straight to his bed and made a nest. He slept until our bedtime, then I took him out back to deposit two Great Dane sized poops and about a quart of pee.
As it turns out, my bath didn’t kill the stank, it just subdued it a little. That, coupled with the atrocious shape of his nails, had me calling groomers all over the area yesterday to see if anyone could squeeze in an emergency case. I found one in River City, and Robyn took him over.
I’m such a spaz I explained to the groomers the dog’s situation, because I fear that someone will take a look at him and call the cops on US for mistreating him. 
I stopped at our vet’s office on the way home from work to pick up a broad spectrum dewormer and the canine version of Weight Gain 4000 (BEEFCAKE!). Deep in thought about the state of affairs of the world, I tooled down the long and straight country road that runs between Huntsville and Smallville, behind a panel truck.
“Deep in thought about the state of affairs of the world” could probably be more accurately described as “singing loudly with my Mika CD, simultaneously proud and embarrassed that I can hit all the high notes.”
Suddenly, something caught my eye ahead. A blob of brown and cream, tumbling end over end over the top of the panel truck and into the tall grass at the side of the road. I stared at the flailing thing on the way past, already making plans that required me to go home before stopping.
The panel truck never slowed.
“Bessie,” I said when I got in the house. “You know how our lives seem to be one strange misadventure after another?”
“Oh, no.”
“There’s an injured hawk on the side of the road that needs our help.”
We grabbed a cat carrier and a pair of heavy work gloves, and I changed out of my work clothes (shorts and a t-shirt, because I get to wear what I want) into jeans and a long-sleeved denim shirt. We drove back towards Huntsville behind the slowest car ever put on the face of the earth (isn’t it always that way when you’re in a hurry?), but finally we were back where I saw the hawk get hit.
The first thing we did was go to make sure it was still alive. It was, so I went back to the car and got the carrier and gloves. Very gingerly, I picked up the hawk, trying my best not to move it. When it came off the ground I heard several loud clicks I first thought were bones rubbing together. I turned the hawk over and looked at its face.
“Bessie, this isn’t a hawk,” I said, staring into two huge and beautiful yellow eyes.
O RLY? my mind shrieked, and I started cackling, because my sense of humor shows up in the most serious places.
“Holy shit,” Robyn said when she saw it. “He’s beautiful.”
We got him into the carrier and brought him home, after a trip to pick up the dog from the groomer. He obviously had serious problems, because his head wouldn’t straighten up. It was permanently cocked to the side, and his left pupil was blown. Still, he was by God going to die in a warm safe place, not on the side of a busy road in freezing weather.
Behold the juvenile screech owl
The clicks were him snapping his beak, either from pain or to intimidate
I posted the pictures above on a message board where I hang out, and someone pretty quickly pointed out that having a screech owl in our possession was a federal felony. I had no idea all birds of prey were protected, I just thought hawks were. I called a federally permitted wildlife rehabilitator (for once, a government website was helpful!) and explained the situation and how I was pretty sure the owl was going to die. She put me in touch with another rehabber who lived closer to me.
But not before telling me that rescuing the owl was “absolutely the right thing to do” and that Fish and Game agents wouldn’t hunt me down and put me in federal pound-me-in-the-ass prison for trying to help a federally protected species.
We ended up meeting the second rehabilitator at a local gas station and turned the owl over to her. She told us that she would euthanize it because he seemed to be in bad enough shape that rehabbing wouldn’t be possible.
For you other animal lovers who hate to see anything suffer, here’s the official method of euthanization, should you find yourself in a situation where you would need to do it: Soak several paper towels in ether, which is commercially available as diesel or gasoline engine starter at any auto parts store. Put the paper towels into a sealed container large enough to hold the animal, and leave them for several minutes. This lets the fumes build up to lethal levels. Put some dry paper towels down over the wet ones, and lay the injured animal on them (probably you would want to make sure you didn’t inhale any fumes). Reseal the container. In very short order, the animal will go to sleep, then die quietly. Make sure you leave the animal in there long enough for the ether to do its job.
Back home, I let the dog out for a while. He’s like a completely different animal now, alert and curious, sniffing everything. He stays pretty tired, and sleeps a lot, but when he’s up, he’s acting like a dog again. The dewormer did its job well, as I just discovered a couple of minutes ago when I went up to let him out. My fault for feeding him then starting to write an entry instead of taking him out. The good news is that the poop was chock full of dead hookworms. He’ll be going to the vet on Monday for a check up and testing to make sure he doesn’t have heartworms.
Now, a plea.
He needs a home, desperately. We’re not dog people, even though I wish we were. The cats are riled up, and will hardly go upstairs now. Please please PLEASE, if you would like a rescued (most likely purebred) beagle who needs some TLC, or know someone who would, don’t hesitate to email me. We’re willing to drive a few hours to meet someone if necessary. We have several “I’ll take him if you can’t find anyone” offers, but what we’d like to first try is finding someone who really wants him. There’s someone in Wisconsin who does, and we’ll go that route if necessary, but obviously we’d like to try something closer first.
Now, some pictures from last night. Hopefully you’ll agree he looks better.
What’s with the gay little bandanas groomers use?
He’s a gorgeous little guy, and I hope you find a good, loving home for him. I wish it could be us, but my husband has decreed that we are a one dog family.
I admire you doing everything you possibly can to make sure this guys recuperates and finds a good home. I know of many, many people that would have just taken him to the local pound and forgotten about him.
I’m sure that with your readership you will find him a excellent home. I wish I could take him but I have 6 cats ( a few less than you guys) and they would freak out too. He looks much better even with the gay little bandana! And I’m glad you went and got that little screech owl. You saved him from suffering a agonizing slow death on the side of the road. You two are something else.
You and Robyn are animal angels! And I just want to say thank you on behalf of all the little beasties.
Fred ~ The beagle looks 100% better than it did. He still has a while before he fully recovers, but looks so much alert! I hope you are able to find one of your readers to take him. Did you give him a name?
As for the owl…you basically did all you could. Thanks for giving it a more dignified death than on the side of the road in the middle of winter.
I always have a variety of critters show up at my door too. We do what we can to save them, but unfortunately, we aren’t always successful.
Thank you for your and Robyn’s efforts on their behalf.
We were told by an officer of the law not to take the dog back to the last known owner, and that’s good enough for us. If you don’t like our decision, you should send me a long detailed email telling me just how wrong I am, because there’s nothing I value more than unsolicited advice from strangers.
Tch. I read all the comments on your and Robyn’s site from the first posting, and I don’t think there was a single one that said “send him back to his abusive, neglectful owner.” There were a few indicating a wish to meet the owner, to facilitate an introduction to some eye-for-an-eye justice, but that was about it…
Poor little owl. And thanks for the euthanization advice - several years ago I had to watch a guinea pig die a terribly slow and agonizing death; I wanted to put him out of his misery but couldn’t bring myself to do it and the emergency vet clinic wanted $150. I was a single mom at the time making $1222 a month (before taxes); it was out of the question. Hopefully I’ll never be in that situation again, but it’s good to have the information handy.
My dog Macie still has the bandana on from her last trip to the groomers, back in September. She tore the bandana off the little dog, Honda, first thing when I got them home, but left her own alone; I think Macie was jealous that Honda was prettier than she was.
Fred, If I am ever unfortunate enough to be abused and starved by the hand of a human, or runover and left for dead by a panel truck, I certainly hope I am in your neighborhood when it happens. I’m pretty sure I’d have a fighting chance with you in my corner.
He sure looks to be an old dog. Im curious if the vet can venture to guess how old he is. I still wonder if he’s just an old dog who accidentally wandered off from his family and got lost?
There’s a reason these animals ‘find’ you two. You guys are awesome.
Fred you seriously rock. I wish there were more people out there like you.
Sweety, I’ve had episodes of “dumping syndrome” related to my Crohn’s Syndrome, and I can safely say that at no time did I come up from the toilet with my eyes looking like that!!! Poor baby!!!
That poor baby owl!!!Thank God you and Fred saved it from being road kill. At least it will have a more humane fate.
As for Buddy; There are so many animals (and humans too)that suffer neglect and abuse; I am so happy for him that he found his way to you and Fred. And I am so impressed that so many of your fans have stepped up to assist. They and you totally rock!!!
Lurve,
Sammi
I wish so much I could take that dog off your hands but my husband is not a pet person. I love dogs myself and I might get away with introducing a puppy into the family at some point but I’d never get away with an 8 year old beagle I had to drive to AL to get! You guys are the best, you really are. Most people wouldn’t do a quarter of the stuff you’ve done for your pets.
If we had a place for him and we weren’t at the opposite end of North America from you (Northern Alberta) we would take him in a heartbeat. I’m hoping that whoever takes him keeps you up to date on how Buddy makes out. His poor “waist” is almost smaller than his neck. That’s a bloody sin!
You guys certainly are banking the kharma points. Just as there is a special circle of hell for the asshat that let that poor animal get to that condition, I’m hoping that there is a special reward in the hereafter for people like you and Robyn who have selflessly given so much to help animals get ready to find their families.
Good luck at finding little Buddy a great home with people who are as much fabulous dog people as you all are cat people. You guys are the best!
Buddy looks SO much better (and his tail is up more!), even with the Groomer Gay Bandana.
Fred,
Do you ever think of how lucky buddy is to have found you guys? At the rate he was going he must have felt horrible! He was old and hungry and just not taken care of and growing up in the south I know that most people wouldnt be nice to any pet that showed up, certainly not one thats old and couldnt earn his keep. Dont you wonder how many people more than likely chased him away from their homes before he found you guys? Its like he hit the lotto when he found you guys.
Ok.. So my question is this. Although you cant prove that the his owner did anything wrong - Do you feel differently about him now? Although I dont think its good to judge didnt you feel a little angry with him when he just came to get his collar and wasnt worried about the dog? Maybe he isnt to blame, but it seems horrible.
Hey there! You guys rock! And I’ve been in the “rescued, but can’t keep” situation myself, so I understand that you can’t keep the dog. Sadly, I’m in California, but I already posted your situation to the Cyberkat list (together with Robyn’s contact info). Perhaps someone comes out of the woodwork who is closer to you can myself or the person in Wisconsin.
My husband and I love animals so much. He, like you will go to the greatest of effort to save an animal in distress. He saved a dog last year after it got hit my a car…(the dog bit him…but it was under stress, and that was okay) and later in spring he stopped a line up of cars on a busy highway so the momma could get her little duckling across safely. Then he posted a “Duck Crossing” sign on the road. I’m starting to like him, even though he pisses me off all the time.
I’d take your pup in a heartbeat…but I know here come the “buts” … I have a 7 year old dog who hates every dog she has ever met. I love dogs, but Penny (the dog) does not. I find that, how do you say…”stupid.” If I was a dog, I would like to sniff another dogs butt.
I will foward your information to our Humane Society tommorow, and lets see if all of us can come up with a good home for Buddy.
I have so much admiration for you and Robyn,and I will contact our Humane Society to see if they will help.
Fred, check out Dogster (www.dogster.com) if you haven’t already. You can post adoptable dogs, and I think there are also message forums with “rescue” sections.
Also check out Catster: www.catster.com
If you are willing to drive him to BC Canada I will take him in a heartbeat. That said, and knowing I am too damned far away, I suggest a beagle or small dog rescue.
I know in my case I was willing to jump through hoops to get my dog and had to meet several requirements. Separates those who want a dog from those who can afford and will care for a dog.
The owl.. I remember we found one injured on our property and we took him in. Called a local wildlife rescue and they took him/her in. Hoping she was fine and released.
I think you and Robyn should start a rescue. Heh, sounds like you have already!
The gay bandana (or ribbon on the collar) is a bonus for paying huge prices for grooming! (Says this lover of two small hairy dogs).
I am amazed you got Buddy in so quick BTW. In these parts at least a week is necessary to ensure an appointment!
Have you tried these people?
http://adopt-a-beagle.1-800-save-a-pet.com/
I’d take him in a second, as I’ve got 2 other rescue beagles already. However, I’m sure you don’t want to come all the way out to San Francisco!!
I know I can’t make the trip to you and back. My boss would have a fit!
You guys are awesome, wonderful people! I wish more people cared as much as you do.
You are wonderful people. Thank you for the info about euthanization- I will file it away.
“Great Dane sized poops”. You use that phrase like you know just how big that is.
I bet you don’t. I bet you have no idea how much steam rises off one of those in the chill of the morning, or how quickly the stench can reach you, even with a 15 ft. leash fully extended.