Keeper: A Story of Rescue

I saw what you did that morning a few months ago, right before the holiday weekend–guess you were going out of town and thought you would do the deed as one last “preparation” to free yourself for your weekend. You were driving a late-model red Honda: I saw you stop, saw the door open, saw the dog put out. And I saw you drive off.  She watched you, too–sitting there stunned and motionless. Then she started running after you, and that’s when I jerked the car over and started running after her.  Though I was late to work, I couldn’t leave the desperate Sheltie you had abandoned.   

 As a rescuer, I always have leashes, collars, treats, and bottled water in my car, because of course there are many people just like you. Gradually, I won her trust and got her into my car. After I had her safe with me, I was able to examine her: though she was thin and had fleas, someone in her family had  clipped hair around the hot spots on her back, and had placed a red collar around her neck, though her tags were left behind or discarded so she could not be traced. As I discovered during the two weeks I kept her, someone had  taught her to play ball and shake hands; she had learned a little basic obedience, and she was housetrained–a lady through and through.

She was very grateful to me, giving me lots of kisses; but I saw the faraway look in her eyes, watched her pace, sometimes spinning the sheltie spin in her agitation and confusion. She missed whoever had taken care of her; so, hoping I had been wrong about what I saw that morning–perhaps she had been stolen or was the victim of domestic dispute–I tried from the first day to find her owner.  I put up signs; I called vets, shelters, rescue agencies, sheltie clubs; posted her on the Internet web sites; had her scanned for a microchip.

You must have seen the signs.  

What did you think would happen to her when you dumped her? What chance did you think she had where you abandoned her? There was no shelter, no water, no food–only the hot Texas sun and speeding cars. If you didn’t want her any longer, why didn’t you try to find her a home?  Failing that, why didn’t you do a little research to find a rescue group?  Why didn’t you drive her to a shelter?  Why didn’t you at least give her a chance to be adopted, rather than dump her where she could have been hit by a car or shot by another heartless person, or where she might have died of thirst, hunger, or illness?    She didn’t deserve that. No one does.

But Keeper was lucky: there are individuals and rescue groups who daily pull dogs and cats from roadways and try to help them so they don’t die in front of a speeding car or from hunger and thirst. I named your dog “Keeper” because she is a keeper, not a throw-away. She stayed with me until I was able to place her in one of our foster homes and eventually an adoptive home. She  blessed her delighted new home with a full and grateful heart. Fortunately for rescued dogs and cats, there are many more people like Keeper’s angels than there are like you.

Oh, and here’s the coda to the story you began writing for her those many months ago.  After we got her cleaned up, vaccinated, treated for the Heartworm disease you let her contract; after she put on weight, and her damaged coat grew out, she is beautiful–gorgeous in fact.  Her new mom saw the intelligence and possibilities in Keeper: here is a Sheltie who clearly wants to work, which you probably never knew because you know nothing about dogs, especially herding dogs. She is in agility classes, which she loves, has earned her Canine Good Citizen award, and is now training to become a therapy dog.  Her new mom plans to take her to hospitals and nursing homes to cuddle with and entertain young and old who might need a little comfort.  Because Keeper understands just what that is all about, and despite your cruelty to her, like most dogs who suffer at the hands of cruel masters, her heart is large, and she still loves people

You, however, must live with your cold heart and the effects on you all your life from what you did to this little dog who trusted you. You may never give her another thought; you also may never understand what’s hit you down the road in your own life.

But, here’s a hint: Karma, too, is a cold-hearted bitch.