So I describe myself as an avid dog lover…while picturing large dogs in my head. I have an 80lb Yellow Lab and she’s more or less the sun – read, center of my universe. It’s not that I don’t like small dogs, they just never took up space in my heart, probably because they often stay so close to their own parents I haven’t bonded with them, or true to little-dog form they’ve snipped, snapped, and chased my larger dog around the park until even she turns to say “For cryin’ out loud stop – we’re on the same side idiot!” – in Bark of course, which I don’t speak, but can hear.
However, lately at the shelter, I’ve had the opportunity to learn guerilla grooming, which basically equates to shaving a dog bald trying to get all the matted hair removed. We only resort to this when it’s the last resort and I’ll add it’s much easier to learn grooming on a dog that’s knocked out w/ drugs. (I don’t recommend bathing them though – just keep that little note to yourself.) The dogs have to be anesthetized for this, as no sane dog would permit clippers on his body this much, and removing matted hair clumps can be very painful depending on how bad and gunky they are. The worst are burrs which lodge in soft leg hair and prick little leg skin whenever dogs sit or lay down. Getting these free takes approach from all sides, breaks in between to avoid that nasty clipper burn, and re-approach with a one-two combo scissor / clipper action until they come off. Seriously, show me the tree that needs to seed down this badly and I’ll show you one annoying tree!
The first shave I watched changed Sheldon to Shelley and the listing for this Chow from Male to Female - honestly, you couldn't tell because s/he had so much hair. The first dog I guerilla groomed was George, he went from being a ‘Poodle Mix’ to a ‘Schnauzer Mix’ once we unstuck his ears from his front shoulders, and sheared the curly coat from his back side. Amazing what a good shave can do, and because of this shave he went to a Schnauzer Rescue the very next day. The second dog was Shandy, whom I’ve written an earlier blog regarding, and by now she’s well settled into her new home and some of her hair is starting to grow back. I’m sure she’s forgiven me for the clipper burn, and maybe forgotten me because she has two new humans and a sister so spend all her time with now – Bliss.
But yesterday was Layla the poodle. She’s so small, less than 8lbs, and so timid it’s hard to see a little dog like this go through so much, and go back to a 3 x 3 kennel that seems to swallow her up. She gets brought to the shelter, knocked out for grooming, shaven naked except for her head, then wakes from anesthesia with a two playful pups in the same room and must wonder at the universe for this strange day. After she’s fully woke up, it’s time for a bath to remove the dander and dirt and tear stains from around her eyes. The only ‘good’ part of her day probably started then, being wrapped in a Turkish towel and hand fed lamb and rice (she doesn't have teeth anymore) as my best ‘baby-voice’ spoke sweet nothings in her ear.
After shaving and bathing her yesterday – the best shave I’ve done yet which isn't saying alot but I'm sure she's happy I've improved – she still has most the hair around her head, giving her something of a poof-for-a-pooch hairdo. Her skin is a fairer pink and brown freckles can be seen everywhere, including her wrinkled tail, all in prep for her big trip. Saturday, she will be taking transport to her new rescue all the way in Milwaukee WI. So that she doesn’t get sick between now and then, I’ll foster her for the rest of today thru Saturday morning when I’ll pass her along. I already know tears will flow, but she’s going onto a better place on this planet – which she richly deserves.
I’ve been desperate to do more, and fostering is the perfect way, but living in a loft it’s challenging to know which fosters will work and which will not. And my husband, justifiably so, is concerned at bringing in too much dog for our living space, which wouldn’t be fair to him, our dog, or any dog we’d foster. But at the size Layla is, she won’t even take up as much space as a bag of chips.
Like an expectant parent with a planned c-section, I’m looking at the clock again and again counting down to my appointment; when I can go get her. Today she’ll receive her shots and be spayed, and I’ll likely pick up a ‘punch-drunk’ Layla when I bring her home. Once home, I’ll introduce her to Denali and see how this arrangement may be arranged so the two can get along – can’t have Layla nipping at Denali and can’t have Denali laying down on Layla!
Everyone says this, but it’s different when you feel it – saving a dog is really saving yourself. But love is always like this, you do just know. I’m so danged happy at the chance to do more for a dog, for this dog, I can hardly stand it. Knowing I’m helping her get to a new home, even if it can’t be my home, feels like I’m working the Underground Railroad, or being a Suffragist, or just making the world a little better for one other living creature. Do I miss my paycheck, well sortof, do I love this feeling – like you can’t imagine! I grew up looking at role models and sometimes wondered, how did they do so much? How can I ever do as much? I don’t think that way now, every little, tiny, miniscule bit matters, but it’s like crack. Do it once – help someone or something when you don’t have to – you’ll be hooked. It’s not such a bad addiction to have really. Want some? :o)
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