A very nice note, with pictures, from Donald McCaig.
Sometimes notes like this are like cool water on hot dry ground: a little bit of home in a whole lot of darkness.
Vicki Hearne was right: "Dog Rescue is a dirty business".
That said, I was standing outside our rural church waiting for the last of our 12 member congregation to appear when this Coonhound pup came around the corner, (apparently) hoping to be saved.
I am the least sentimental dog person. I've looked away in Haiti and Albania but this pup had maybe a day or two and, honestly, I didn't even think. Scooped him up. He was so weak he couldn't get his untrimmed toenails untangled from the seat belts. When I brought him in the house I asked Anne, "Can you care for him."
I was back at church for the congregational prayer.
When I took him to our four-vet practice, all the vets left their paying clients to inspect him. He weighed 21 pounds.
No worms, no heartworms, no lyme - but he had giardia which deposited 8 or ten sloppy stinking poops every day. We cured it, started teaching a recall and integrated him with our Border Collie pack. A week later he weighed 34 pounds
I'm 76 years old. Why the fuck do I want a coonhound?
He does sing and he's good with people and Prez (short for Presbyterian) thinks he's in paradise. He's as smart/sensitive as the Border Collies but lacks the instinct to work with a shepherd. Unfortunately Anne has fallen in love with the silly bugger and Fly (Most Difficult Sheepdog I've Owner) has decided she's his mother.
Like Vicki said . . .