Dotty's Story (Rescue Miracle)
This is Dotty, a Corgi. It is about 4:30 am and Martha kept me awake all night tossing
around, so I decided to get up and (as you Corgi-L folks say) put in MY . 02
about rescue. After all, it is about me, isn't it. Sorry if this is long. I have something to say.
My breeders were nice folks. Not too smart, but nice. They loved my Mom and wanted more... Their gift to me was leaving me a "one knuckle" tail that
Martha calls my metronome. She says she can't ever get another corgi, because
she'll never find one with such a cute stub.
The family that bought me was nice too. A mom, dad, two sweet little girls,
two big dogs and horses. We had a great life on a ranchette in the valley.
Until the dad left one day and the mom was left with all that to take care of.
I stayed busy herding the big dogs, until I was just totally exhausted by my
own inability to stop. When I got flea infested, the mom had to choose
between paying for Advantage or feeding her little girls. I have never
thought she made the wrong choice.
By the time rescue was called for me (the mom knew she had to do something to
save my life) I was a mess. My bites were all infected and I was covered with
oozy sores. The first time I saw Debby, my foster mom, she scared me to
death. She whisked me away from my little girls and suddenly I was in a crate
headed for points unknown! To this day, I check inside every stroller I see
to make sure my girls aren't in there.
But soon I found out that Debby had a bunch of corgis at home and a big kennel
too with lots of other dogs. I was scared, but it wasn't too bad there.
Debby cleaned me up, which I didn't like, but I knew by the look in her eyes
and the gentleness in her hands that she was trying to help me.
Well, many trips to the vet and lots of drugs later, Debby found out I had
mange and it wasn't getting any better. Mostly my problem was that the
antibiotics weren't working and my infections were getting worse. The dip for
the mange burned me so bad I just really wanted to die when Debby did that to
me. She cried right along with me and I knew, again, that she was trying to
help. But by then I was so sad, even her corgi crowd couldn't cheer me
One night during all this Debby got a phone call and I knew she was talking
about me. She said I was too sick to be placed and that she didn't know when
I could go to a new home. That's when I figured out my travels weren't over.
The person kept calling every week or so. I would hear Debby say stuff like,
"but you don't know what you are getting into. This dog STINKS!" It was
true. The infection was rotting my flesh and no-one seemed to be
able to make me better.
About that time, I tried to let Debby know it was ok to send me to the bridge.
I was so tired and I knew she had tried very hard to make me well. The vet
told her it was time to let me go too, but she just didn't want to. She even
called her club to ask for their advice. And that crazy lady kept calling
saying she was willing to take me!
When Martha showed up to pick me up, I could see the revulsion on her face. I
just limped away and sat in the garage while she and Debby talked. I didn't
blame her if she didn't want me. My heart was breaking as Debby brought out a
healthy dog and offered her to Martha. And then Martha said, "No, I came for
Dotty and I am going to take her home."
I was happy and sad at the same time. I loved Deb, and I couldn't bare to
leave her. I still thought the bridge was the best place for me: I had heard
the vet say as much to Debby that day. When she refused, he said he would try
one more antibiotic. So, new pills and that awful mange dip in hand, Martha
drove away with me. Martha has only heard me cry one time, it was that day
when we drove down Debby's driveway and I thought I would never see
her again. We drove the two hours to Martha's house with the windows down.
And when we got there David put a fan on the floor in front of me to blow the
stink away! A few days later Martha took me for a walk and it took her about
ten minutes to notice my feet were bleeding. Oh boy, did I wish for Debby
then! But she picked my stinking body up and carried me all the way home and
I knew it would be ok.
I know Martha has told you all about my amazing recovery. How the antibiotic
kicked in finally. How she tortured me with mitaban dips for four months.
How Dr. Patrick cried and gave me my name: Rescue Miracle. How I came to have
my very own golf course as a private dog park and how I play every day with
pit bulls and poodles in the public dog park. I am very happy to be alive!
So someone asked about the rescue gods. I don't know, but I do know a very
special Rescue goddess named Debby who insisted I stay alive long enough to
find my true family. Debby, I know rescue is sometimes discouraging, and you
get very tired. But please keep doing it, for the other Dottys out there
waiting for you.
Love to all my corgi friends - especially those who do rescue.