I really did NOT want to stop. I have a pretty well developed “okay or not okay” system of scanning roadside dogs. In reality, of course they are all not in the best circumstances, but my world has forced me into a pretty strict triage consisting of me not pulling over unless the dog is obviously in imminent danger, in heat, emaciated, or too young to survive alone. The mama dog and what looked like a single 3-4 week old puppy checked 3 of my boxes. Dammit.
I had nothing with me but there was an emaciated mama dog and tiny puppy walking on a VERY busy road. Fuuuuuuck.
I turned around and couldn’t find them, “phew!” I thought, they went home……..NOPE. Just further into the damn road. So, stopped car in traffic, then stopped traffic and chased them off the road itself and there was the tiny puppy….right in front of me.
So, I scared the (metaphorical) shit out of him and grabbed him. He had obviously no experience with humans. Sadly, mama DID have experience with humans and I couldn’t get close.
Moved car out of road, called my friend for backup and bought some puppy food at the gas station and was hoping to use that and her baby to snaggle mama.
Mama – gone.
I felt like *such* a failure. I would rather have gotten that poor mom dog than just snatch her puppy. 🤦♀️
Also, her puppy was way older than he looked next to mom. He is almost 8 weeks old (based on teeth) and I don’t believe he was getting any food other than mama milk.
Because we found him in front of a subway he has been named FootLong and I’ve decided that he is the rarest of breeds – the Teacup Mastiff. 😂
Thankfully, my visiting friend has already found a home for this little shit in the states, so just have to raise a puplet for another week or so. Please enjoy some cute mini mastiff photos. 😁
Y’all. Y’aalllllllllll. Listen! I’ve been tired. Like, capital T, Tired. Depressed? – sure, but doing alright. Anxiety? – well, yeah. No more than anyone else what with the global pandemic (or global pandemania as I like to say) and all. Physical pain? – yup, it’s been a fucker, but I’m working on it. Anywhoodle, all I’m saying is that just like all y’all, I’m doing the best I can.
However, a good thing happened, so I’m forcing myself to sit here and write about Mr. Antonio, because writing helps me and if anyone deserves to be written about it’s Mr. Antonio, or Tony, as he is now called.
Mr. Tony was found on island by a lovely (and straight-up dedicated!) human. She was impressed with his majestic 19 hairs just a’blowin in the wind, overcome by his magnificent natural aroma and pebbled scabtastic skin (of demodectic mange and associated infections), and let us not forget, his impressive knee-length testicles which probably could have been literally, 🎶 thrown o’er his shoulder like a continental soldier🎶. What’s NOT to love?!?
I could spend a lot of time writing about the hectic 3-4 days from meeting Tony to actually getting Tony to his final destination (which, btw, was Alaska 🥶) and/or the never ending logistical nightmare of attempting to move a dog that weighs greater than 18lbs off-island these days – but I don’t want to; this is a post about an amazingly lucky dog and my deep gratitude and appreciation for some beloved and wonderful people in my life who kept me going during a rough time and how I was (hopefully) able to pass that forward.
About seven years ago I was traveling to the great arctic midwest with my service dog, Herbert. He and I were delicate tropical flowers and two wonderful people provided me with winter wear for Herbert. Debra bought him a jacket-type coat that he ended up using a lot even after our winter trip was over for over-air-conditioned buildings (again, delicate tropical flower). Kristin, an amazing artist/designer/seamstress, made Herbert a GORGEOUS quilted cape type coat with embroidered vines that kept him warm and safe during the insane snowmageddon we encountered during our travels. During the coldest times, he wore both VERY happily.
After Herbert passed away, I couldn’t bring myself to let go of a lot of his things, some of them because my practical butt thought they could still be used, but some, like these coats, because they were *his* and I still miss him every day. When I met Mr. Tony, I knew where those coats had to go – Alaska.
Mr. Half-a-Floof Tony, his nekkid mole rat-looking self went from in the living in the tropical Caribbean sun, eating trash with his hot mess of broken teeth and his skin rotting gently from infection while itching everywhere ALL of the time, to meeting a few ladies who lured him with delicious turkey, (I have this interaction pictured in my head like the siren scene from “O Brother, Where Art Thou?” but with turkey instead of laundry 🤣 | https://youtu.be/SJmZtn8vmt8), to visiting a vet clinic for 4 days where he was bathed, medicated, and walked on a leash, to then being dressed in toddler pajamas which were made crotchless by a lady in overalls who spent way too much time laughing over his crotchless pajamas (I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it, they REALLY highlighted his, um, testicles and I have a *very* lowbrow sense of humor), to then flying on a plane to Miami, and then ANOTHER plane to Alaska with *his* turkey-providing FoodLady.
Y’all, Tony has just accepted every weird-ass change in his life with the same look on his face, “Okie dokie, I guess this is happening.”
Today I received a text from Tony’s FoodLady. He LOVES his extra-warm cape coat and he knows it’s his because he picks it up and carries it to his kennel by himself. He likes to keep his special treasures with him all the time and would take them all with him everywhere if someone could please provide him with a Tony-sized shopping cart. 🤣
Mr. Tony is on day 9 post-heartworm treatment and doing okay. He is tentatively scheduled for neuter and tooth-extraction on Thursday.