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The Challenge of Helping by Mary Ann Lindsay, Rescue Editor
Some rescue stories make us gasp at the atrocities the dogs have had to face in their short lives. Others make us tear up at the sorrow when a loving home has had to give up their beloved pet. Then there are the many at the shelters, and we have no idea what their his- tory was or lives were like before they came into ours. All touch us deeply, regardless of their story—and for each rescue dog, there is a story. All have a similar theme; dog meets family, dog loses family, and the lucky ones find rescue.
May/June 2005 The Australian Shepherd Journal 43
These are stories about some who found wonderful new lives because a rescue person stepped up to the challenge of helping.
Shiloh
I first sighted Shiloh at the site of a puppy mill as he came out of the travel trailer some distance up the hill from where we were evaluating dogs. Because of his movement, we thought he was either old or ill. He walked with his back humped and his head down, and each step was deliberate and slow. Once he’d come closer we could see he was a young dog who had been viciously attacked by another dog from the owner’s pack. His hindquarters were badly ripped, the skin in shreds—and where his hide had not been flayed, the puncture wounds were too numerous to count. There was swelling and the stench of infection. Several times he stumbled, yowling as he fell; it was obvious he was in a great deal of pain.
Financially unable to provide him with medical care, the owner had done nothing for his injuries. We gave her supplies from our first aid kit, peroxide and antibiot- ic cream to clean and care for the wounds, but they were small containers not nearly enough to do the job, so we gave her money to purchase more. The owner would not allow us to take him but promised she would care for him. I quelled my anger, knowing there was much to do to help the others, and that I would continue to try to convince her to let me have him vetted.
The next day when we returned to gather more dogs, I did not see him and asked as to his well-being. We were told they had trimmed back the hair from the tears and
punctures, cleaned the wounds with the peroxide, and applied the cream. So we supplied her with more anti- biotic cream and peroxide. They promised they would continue his care and again declined my offer to take and care for him.
On the third trip to the mill, six weeks later, I was amazed at his recovery. He still walked carefully, but his spirits were up, the wounds were healing, and his hair coat had started to grow back. We again explained to the owners the advantages, both to them and Shiloh, of allowing us to take him. They were about to move and still had a large number of dogs to transport; at the final minute, they agreed it would be best for Shiloh.
With Shiloh perched on the grooming table at home, we were able to thoroughly access his wounds. The ripped flesh and puncture wounds had healed nicely; there was no sign of infection. He was still tender, and had muscles, tendons, and ligaments that were not yet fully healed. He took a bath like a champ, and once scrubbed and toweled was on the road with his new foster mom. With individual attention, love and care, he flourished. She soon learned how well mannered he was, wanting to please and willing learn.
We got a call, and on the phone the lady was spe- cific. She wanted a blue merle; her sister had one, and the family had decided that was their preference also. They wanted to come meet the dogs I had available for adoption. None was quite right; there just wasn’t that clicking of personalities that we look for. The more we talked, the more Shiloh stood out in my mind’s eye. He sounded like their match. They arranged to meet Shiloh, and it was kismet.