Tag Archives: rescue dog

The Art Angel

Years ago, I went to the Milwaukee Art Museum, known around town as “the Calatrava” because of its bird-in-flight modern design by the noted architect. In the gift shop, I found a little aluminum slug with an archangel on one side, a bas-relief of sorts. I picked it up and put it in the chest pocket of my cotton knit vest where it stayed for a long time. The last time I washed the vest and laid it out to dry, the Art Angel was no longer there.

Sara, the rescue dog we’ve been caring for the past couple of months was spayed three weeks ago. Nine days ago, after she was nearly healed from the spay, she was severely attacked by another dog in the country neighborhood, who we do not know. But she made it home and laid, motionless, in the front yard until I saw her. Puncture wounds are nasty, so even though we cleaned her up, the leg swelled massively due to infection and just today, thanks to antibiotics, the swelling began to subside.

Poor sneaky, slippery outdoor Sara has been in a crate all that time, not eating much and having a generally miserable time of it. Epsom salt baths every day. Antibiotics hidden in sausage meat. I finally made her a meat loaf yesterday because she’ll only eat out of my hand and not much at that. An outdoor dog forced indoors because of the freezing weather (it’s snowing in Texas today), I don’t know how she’ll feel about human companionship if she gets through this. She’s not potty trained so we’re going through wee wee pads like crazy because she can’t move around yet.

Last night she ate her new prescription pill (in a sausage ball) and perked her head up a bit. Her tail wagged slightly. This morning when I went in to check on her she was perky, wagging her tail, and ate two whole slices of meat loaf! The swelling looked like it was going down a bit, and as I was cleaning up I found a small piece of foil on the floor to throw away.

Except it wasn’t foil. It felt funny joining the dirty wee wee pads et al I was taking out to the trash, so I turned it over. It was my long-lost Art Angel. It had been watching over Sara all night, having fallen out of the secret pocket in the jacket I was wearing. Things are looking up in Sara-land! Let’s hope it stays that way, as I can’t wait until she bounds out of Princess Lulu’s crate and goes back to patrolling the farm. Hopefully she’ll not be calling on the neighbors again. She had been poorly treated by her original owners, then dumped so was understandably untrusting of humans, but it appears that other than her new best bud Princess Lulu, some of the neighbor dogs don’t like this 26-lb. sweet mutt very much. Not very friendly for country folk. Wish us well as we go through this challenging phase and hopefully have a happy, healthy spayed pup in the end. Cheers! Dee

Dogs and Cats

“Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together, mass hysteria.” Ghostbusters, Bill Murray

My dogs and cats lived together. My first rescue dog, 1991, joined my cat, a Burmese mix, also a rescue, from 1987. They were never close, just slept in the same position two feet from one another for years.

The second rescue cat crawled into that dog’s bed and stayed for a year. The cats never got along, separate litter boxes and food, but dogs would run away from home to see my younger cat, Mick, Mickey, Mick Dundee. Neighbor dogs would wrestle with him. He eventually went to live with a Corgi who would place Mickey’s head in his mouth. He loved dogs.

Now I walk down the street with the Hipless Wonder Dog Zoe, who will be eleven years old next week and people pick up their purse pets and turn away to keep them away from that “big dog.” Zoe is 35 pounds, an Australian Shepherd mix and if a two year-old child grabbed food from her dish she’d look up at me and ask if she could have some more.

Zoe’s idea of danger is sleeping on her bed with view of bedrooms, kitchen and front door so I can’t leave, even to take out trash or recycling, without her knowledge.

Just so you know the full story, when Zoe was a pup a cat, Meow Meow, used to hang out outside our home. We didn’t feed her for a few months, and found out she hung out at a number of places. We were special. Zoe was young and out walking 8X per day. MM took advantage of that because a certain mockingbird was after her. We were a parade. Me, Zoe, Meow Meow and the mockingbird. Zoe and I were MM’s protection detail, to keep the neighborhood bully from stealing her lunch money.

Zoe loves cats. They can’t run from her or they’re prey. Dashiell was a great cat, a Maine Coon Cat. They’re very dog-like and owner-specific. Luckily he got Lillian to keep him company, see a theme here?

So, I can’t have a cat unless I live in the country and they visit me outside. I have a dog that loves cats and a husband who is allergic to them. I can’t live in the country because my husband does city work. And ’round and ’round it goes. You wonder why I didn’t choose math as a specialty. A+B doesn’t always =C. But you still get… Cheers, from Dee