I'm new here, so....

roco0101September 16, 2011

I'd like to introduce myself as an animal advocate, a dog rescuer.

I'd like to start with my story of Max, the maddening Boxer.

I lived in a very small town, 1,500 people. Your kids did no wrong because they were afraid to. Some one would, for sure, tell you about it. Oregon, drizzly, wonderful rain most of the time.

My sister showed up at my house, red faced, stomping with flailing arms. "There is a dog down the street, tied up under some A#$*)!'s deck, in the rain, no food, he's skinney and he's cold. Do something!"

Being calmer than my sister, I just seethed inside, told my DH "There is a dog down the street, tied up under some A#$*)!'s deck, in the rain, no food, he's skinney and he's cold. Do something!" I rely on DH to keep me out of jail. He's very diplomatic. Me, not so much.

As DH is walking up the walk the next night after work, he's leading a skinney brindle Boxer, scared and weak. I asked how he managed that. Says he, "I simply told him if he didn't sell me the dog for $100.00 (20's splayed out), I'd call the Humane Society on him. The guy said the dog was special and had championship blood lines. I said, 'Good', then for 100 bucks I won't have to kick your a$$ up through your throat." There's some diplomacy for ya.

So we have this crazy Boxer, Max, for years. If he ever got lose, he was a runner, but some one in town would call, "Max is down by the bridge." "Max is at the Bethel's house". Even the cops knew him because he was in love with "Jenny" the K9 cop. I offered a couple of times to pay for the scratches on the cop car. "Ah, Jenny's done more damage inside than Max can do outside." He had the best life. The cats loved him. Dinner was food and a paper towel to wipe the drool.

I couldn't afford to fence my 1/2 acre so he lived in his dog run, large, heated dog house. Out when I went to work, in as soon as I got home.

I came home from work one day and the gate to his dog run was open. Max was gone. I figured some one would eventually call but no one did. DH drove for hours looking for him. We waited for days for him to show back up but he never did.

Months later, we went 40 miles to another town to attend a wrestling championship for DS. After the meet, we went out for pizza. As DH was up doing our order, DS said, "Mom, he's depressed. He truly misses Max. We gotta get him a dog."

So, over pizza, we determine that THIS is the day to go rescue another dog in Max's name. We needed gas so, we stopped and asked where their Humane Society was. The guy gives directions and we take off. Bad directions.

There is a difference between a Humane Society and a Dog Pound....why, I don't know. I knew we were at the Dog Pound, but forged ahead.

"Hi, we'd like to adopt a dog." She said go through the first glass doors, the dogs are through the second glass door. So, we go.

Before we got to the second set of doors, some little, bald guy stopped us to inform us that they don't do adoptions near the holidays (it was December) because people buy stupid gifts of dogs, yadda, yadda, yadda.

My diplomacy kicked in and I nicely told him it wasn't a gift, it was a family pet......then looked at my DS. Eyes like a cup saucer and all he could say was, "Mom! Mom! Max! Mom! Max!"

I couldn't hear anything but there was that flop earred brindle, jumping up and down, spit flying everywhere. I learned later he was in the cage to the right, to be put down the next day. He was found as a stray with a line of rope on him and scrapes on his underside. The guy was always a runner. He could jump a six foot fence. That's my Maxer! We figured out later, he was probably stolen from his dog run....no ear chop, brindle,...he sorta looked like a pitbull, if you're stupid.

Many, many kisses to the head of Bald Guy, no discussion of not adopting out dogs near the holidays, no fines for me because I was soooooo out of the fine area. To get there on his own, he'd have had to cross two freeways and a river. He was a Boxer, they don't swim!

I paid the adoption fee and dug every green bill I had in my wallet out for a donation, probably close to $200.00.

He was a miracle dog, gone for two months but with us for years to come. I wish I could have read his mind to figure out where he was for two months but, maybe I wouldn't want to know.

Thank God for wrong directions.

A micro chip would have have made a world of difference but they didn't have them then.

Neuter, spay, microchip.

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Thank you for sharing your story (you are a wonderful writer BTW).

    Bookmark   September 17, 2011 at 9:22AM
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Wonderful story. I love happy endings.

Do you keep a blog?

    Bookmark   September 17, 2011 at 9:30AM
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OMG..Wonderful story. You should publish it in your local paper at least, maybe a dog magazine. Serendipity for you. Lucky Max. Good for you. A win/ win all around. Many more years with your crazy dog, I hope.

    Bookmark   September 17, 2011 at 12:26PM
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You and your husband are wonderful for rescuing poor Max. So many just suffer day after day and no one cares.
I was so upset to read about him missing, but the happy ending made up for it. :o) What a story!! I hope you'll post a lot, I look forward to reading whatever you have to contribute.

    Bookmark   September 17, 2011 at 4:46PM
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Thank you for sharing your story. So happy that you got him back -- it was no accident, in my opinion, but something meant to be.

We have a boxer from a rescue group. He was two when his owners gave him up, and we adopted him the following week.

He is chipped and neutered. He is ours forever, and a great pet.

    Bookmark   September 17, 2011 at 6:04PM
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