No. 266: Sasha In Flowers

"Sasha In Flowers" by Tom Wills, watercolor, October 2014

I was recently introduced to a old and yellowed children's book called "The Puppy That Found A Home" by Sally R. Francis (author) with Dorothy Grider (illustrator).
It's one of those well-loved Rand McNally Junior Elf books, but it's a rather harrowing tale: Poor stray puppy gets chased from place to place by selfish animals and unfriendly people -- even chased with a rake -- all the time being told: "Go 'way, little stray. Go away, I say."

It ends happily with the little stray wandering into a little boy's household, where the mom is accepting and the dad builds a dog house and everyone lives happily together.
For a child it's cuddled-up story time. 
For an adult it's fiction. 
For there are happy endings -- but not always, and not enough of them.

"Hiya"

Sometimes the uncaring acts of lesser people stir the greater possibilities inside of others.
This pretty brown-eyed girl is now known as Sasha, and many of us believe that she has had an ugly life, until very recently.
Our veterinarian said Sasha the stray is a four-year-old, non-spayed purebred beagle. Her front teeth are ground down from trying to gnaw out of whatever past life she had.

Tranquility Base

The vet and some other friends believe that she may have been dumped after someone decided she could no longer function as a puppy factory.  We also were advised she'd had some litters, and probably had just lost one. Her lady parts hang low.
You can see her ribs. At 19 pounds she was four pounds under weight.
I thought her nails were trimmed, but they are just worn down.

Go 'Way

She hadn't spent much time in a house, for sure. Uncertain with steps, curious as hell, and a nervous pee-er.
She anchors down when she's about to be picked up. She trembles when held, as if she had never been held before.
She does not give kisses or lick faces -- as if she'd never had a reason to.
She has not barked and someone told me maybe it's been beaten out of her.
It's all conjecture; we don't really know.

But it's certain that Sasha eats as if every morsel is her last one.
She has a heart murmur but, astoundingly, did not have heartworm. I suspect two Dawn dishwashing soap baths had killed her fleas.
She snores like a pig and smells like a box of new Crayolas -- even after those baths.

A friend of my two daughters found her alongside a Trumbull County road.  But that household already has two dogs and her mom said "no" to a third.
So my daughters conspired, after just two days, to move her into one of their houses.
I gladly supplied an old crate, some battered tie outs and a few bowls. But having such a dog in a household with a toddler and two cats didn't work out after just a week, so she moved in here for another week.
My two dogs and one cat had a lodger.

Nemesis

Unfortunately the big German Shepherd, Corly, just doesn't get along with any dog other than his half-beagle sister Bella (a pug-beagle mix). So they had to be kept apart, and the equation wasn't going to work forever.
My wife also was less-than-enthusiastic about another mouth to feed and follow, although she really did warm to Sasha.
In the interim, it was fun watching the stray awaken Bella's inner beagle.  They played endlessly.
 

Sweetheart

Someone's choice to neglect, then, had become someone else's obligation to care.
For Sasha this also involved a complete veterinary workup, for both her health and the health of my own  dogs; as well as simple things such as those baths, tie-outs and crate; blankets; food and treats; and carving enough time out of busy work days to make sure she was not simply a new ornament.

What would you feel?

That's the nugget here: If you are going to have a pet, you really should look into its eyes. If you feel nothing in that gaze then don't have one.
A simple ID tag costs maybe $7 to make at Wal-mart. A dog license, $20 or so, has a number on it that goes into a searchable database.  Same with a rabies vaccination tag from any vet -- a unique identifying number.


Sasha had none of these. Nor did any of the other strays that have wandered in and out of our lives and those of friends over the decades.
Could you make it without a Social Security number, a driver's license, an immunization record? How far could you get?

The photos here, and several more, made it to Facebook as the call went out to find Sasha a home. I also registered her with the county dog pound but no one had reported her missing.

Her journey to what I hope becomes her forever home was cheered along and supported by dozens of Facebook friends, a network of souls close to my heart who shared and encouraged.
This is especially gratifying because there are so many strays or lost dogs out there. Rescue groups never take a day off. Social media is full of sad faces looking for better lives. Sasha is no better or deserving than any of them, but she got lucky.

Good fortune.

This is why I'm very big on animal ID. My two dogs have three forms of identification on their collars and also are microchipped, as well as wearing radio collars for an electronic fence.
I would make all efforts to get them back should they somehow get lost, because it took me so long to get them here.

You see, I could never have fur pets when I was a boy. Allergies would drive me from homes with dogs and cats. Later, my girls and I had heartbreaking experiences with puppies that didn't work out. Eventually, about 20 years ago, we got a puppy that worked out for 18 months -- until a neighbor poisoned him.
After a lengthy hiatus we then had Hank our chocolate labrador for 13 wonderful years, and now Bella for six years and Corly for four. There have been assorted strays in between, as well as two or three cats among the kids.

Idiot beagle stuff

So I've come to appreciate the hours and emotions that come into play with having pets, and I lecture   all of the time about doing the right thing. It's not to atone for my own past foibles with pets, or to get attention or any of the other crap I'm sometimes accused of. It's just something that I have grown into, am comfortable with, and hope to leave with my girls and anyone else thoughtful enough to read this.

Social media. Beaglenet. Sashaweb.

I fell hard for Sasha, if even for just a week, but had to let her go.
This story, however, is heading toward a happy ending.
A good neighbor has claimed her as a pet mate for her own rescue dog -- also once an abused animal. We moved her crate from our house to hers after about a half-week of cautious doggie meet and greets.
Sasha now finds herself in a single woman's home with a sturdy, young and lively female pit mix, where there are plenty of treats and things to play with.
She gets to keep the painting as a package deal with the dog, because I appreciate what she is doing.

I'm really gonna miss the stinky, cuddly, adorable little dog whose tail never stops wagging. We can visit but it won't be the same. It won't be me taking her outside every morning or crating her each night, typing on the laptop in dim light until she began to snore. These were becoming our rituals.
I typed this one solo.

No one's building her a dog house, but she's inside of a nice home. Outdoors she has her very own big oak tree for lazy afternoons. She figured out right away where the food is stored and where the treat box is stashed.
A lot of people pulled for Sasha. One stepped up and offered, "Come stay, lil' stray. Come stay."