Thursday, September 16, 2010

Rescue

Since the death of our little dachshund, Poni, back in June we have been mourning and looking for a cause of her death. It is profound how large a hole a 9 pound life can leave in your world.
K started looking for another dog after about a month. We had our hopes pinned on a little one from Louisiana, but the woman turned out to be as flaky as grammas pie crust, just no where as good. After several false starts and promises, we had to cancel that adoption. It seems the darling Star, a blue piebald miniature dachshund, had a skin condition called pyoderma, or puss in the skin.
We then tried to adopt an adult from Connecticut, but the woman running the adoption foster group had to leave suddenly to be with her daughter who was, quite ironically, bitten by a dog.
So now we search more, or K does.
A group of rescued puppy mill dogs was sent up to LI and a colleague found a picture of them in PetFinder.com. A little red piebald mini dachshund named Rikki caught our eye. She is small, but chubby and has a story to tell.
I am inferring and assuming many things here, but I doubt I am far wrong.
She was kept in a cage and used as a breeding bitch. If she is 7, as the adoption group has listed her, we can assume the puppy mill operators ( I want to call them so many worse things, but not her, not now) started to breed her around one year of age. If she had 5 litters at 4 puppies each, then she has borne about 20 puppies. She is a little fat from that. Her feet are soft and smooth, not rough like a dog who walks on concrete, grass, gravel, floors in a home. the tiny nails at the ends of her toes are pointed. Any dog that walks on any surface that can abrade, has flat ends to their nails. A white scar crosses from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, a swath with no hair in it. One of the volunteers offered it is probably a bite from another dog.
Rikki is in heat now. They won't spay her due to the increased vascularity in the uteri. Hopefully, she will be spayed today and come home to us tomorrow. But there is still a chance we will have to wait.
We go see her when we can. She relaxed enough, while I held her yesterday, to rest her head on my wrist. This is a very good sign.
I want to bring her home, to live with us and have a chance at a normal and full life as a dog, a friend, not a slab of attractive dog meat that produces money on four legs.
Soon... soon she will be here and integrated into our family.

Waiting is.

C

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