A Tail Told by Grace

PART ONE

"12 year old female Border Collie. Her time is nearly up. Very loving, gives kisses freely. Somebody please help this dog."

I read that and it got to me. For what reason did a loving 12 year old Border Collie end up in a shelter? Well... It wasn’t something that I could concentrate on because we can’t take the dog into our rescue. We had no room. As always; there is no room. I shook my head sadly but did not delete the post. She was a long way from here. Maybe there was a rescuer nearer that would take her, or she would get adopted . . . but she’s 12 years old. It can be very hard to find a home for a dog that old - and there are a lot of younger ones who need our help just as badly, who would be easier to place. We would probably have her for a long time while others were put down waiting to come into rescue. But its not her fault she’s 12 and ended up in a shelter. Age should not be a penalty. I turned my computer off. I couldn’t think about it. We had no room for another dog of any age right now. Instead, I searched for ways to take this dog into rescue; to find someone who could help but met without success.

And that night my sleep was ruined by an old dog that I had never met. In my dreams I saw a slightly heavy-bodied but quiet and gentle dog, sitting in the middle of a gray concrete floor surrounded by a woven wire kennel. All around her were anxious, stressed dogs that paced, panted and barked for somebody to come and get them.

The old Border Collie sat there quietly trying to shut out the sounds and motion about her. Her tired head hung a bit low. In my sleep, she looked at my soul with patient eyes and spoke to me.

"Please . . . come."

We had no room - and I pushed this dog out of my mind for a week as I kept busy with other aspects of the rescue, but still looked for ways to get this old dog out of the shelter. When night came and I fell asleep, the old dog was there sitting quietly in the kennel, waiting for me to fall asleep.

"Please . . . come."

In the second week another message appeared on my computer.

"Very sweet and loving Border Collie. Gives kisses freely. Please somebody save her. She deserves better than to spent her last days in a shelter."

I was beginning to dread going to bed because the old dog would be there waiting for me, staring at me... wouldn’t leave me alone. I tossed and turned in my warm and comfortable bed, and the old dog laid down on the hard concrete floor panting lightly; watching me in my dreams as I slept.

"Please . . . come."

"We have no room for you, old one."

"Yes you do. I will stay at your home. I’m a good dog. I won’t cause trouble. Please . . . come."

"You’re very far away and I work every day. I can’t come to get you, old one."

"Send someone. I am very good in the car. Please . . . come for me."

"My husband doesn’t want another foster dog in the house."

"He will like me. I’m a good dog. You’ll see. Please . . . come get me."

"OK . . . I will talk to him."

"So will I."

And by chance, Melissa ended up driving down to pick up two dogs, and was destined to pass very near the shelter where the old Border Collie waited. On her way back, she stopped at the shelter and brought the old one with her.

"I got the old dog - and guess what. She's a he! He’s very sweet and loving. He rides extremely well in the car. He sat there with his head on my shoulder nearly the whole way, wanted to be petted. You should see all the ticking on his feet. Can you pick him up from my house after work?"

He had no collar, no leash, no identification. He was a stray. He walked into my house, looked around, and smiled up at me as though he knew me. A slow patient wag of the tail and that gentle smile told me he was happy to be here. His amber eyes were sunken into his head and they looked like the eyes of a dog who had been stressed for a long time. He was tired and he desperately needed to sleep. I led him to the crate that would be his and he understood. Without a sound, he walked into the crate, circled twice and laid down to rest. It was the first time in many weeks he would be sleeping on a thick wool blanket and in a quiet place. The amber eyes disappeared behind heavy eyelids in peaceful sleep.

And I slept peacefully too.

PART TWO

Old Dog was still tired the next morning but he greeted me with tail thumping against the side of his crate. For a brief instant, a look of uncertainty passed over his face. The tail slowed and his head dropped just slightly. He was waiting for a response from me.

"Hi Old Dog!" I whispered and smiled. "And did you sleep well last night?"

Thump thump thump. He let out a small sigh of relief. He had not misjudged.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this fella, but you have to go to the vet today. There are no records of any kind on you, and you will have to have all your vaccinations. You'll get a physical exam and a microchip too. I'm glad that you don't have kennel cough or fleas."

I stepped back and looked at the old dog. He stood patiently still; not intent on exploring this new place. He seemed to understand that I was inspecting him. He turned slightly to show me the length of his body and looked up at me again. Hmmm . . . he has done this before. Old Dog had a beautiful coat. It was healthy and free of mats. His nails had been cared for, his ears were clean, his teeth were just slightly in need of cleaning, his body weight was perfect for him. He appeared to be in excellent health. I marveled that this old dog would allow me to handle him without the slightest bit of nervousness on his part. He actually seemed to enjoy the inspection. He was used to being fussed over. Somebody had taken very good care of this old dog - and then he had ended up in the shelter.

"What happened to you, Old Dog?"

Old Dog immediately fit in. He behaved like he had been in my house all his life. Obviously he was not a dog that had been tied to a tree or doghouse in the backyard. He was house trained and crate trained. He was polite and attentive.

I dug into the "dog drawer" and pulled out KC's light blue collar. It was the first collar that I had put on him when he had arrived at my house as an emaciated stray with dry brittle fur. The worry on KC's face, and his desperate need to be held and loved had melted my heart. KC had loved this blue collar. When I would remove it from him, he would slink and cower as he sought to find a safe corner. But when the collar was on him again, his fears vanished. Eventually, when KC had overcome this fear, I had replaced the blue collar with a lovely dark red woven one as a symbol of his success. The old blue collar now reminded me of "the before days."

I stood with the light blue collar in my hand, gentle rotating it and feeling every surface of the fabric loop. Closing my eyes, I remembered the trip to the veterinary hospital when KC had his total hip replacement. This light blue collar had been removed and KC thought I had taken him to a shelter. He thought I didn't love him enough to keep him. I remembered my heart breaking for him because I couldn't explain to him that I would be coming back in a few days to get him again after his surgery. He had turned his head away sadly and wouldn't look at me anymore. I had sobbed on the way home, feeling sorry for KC. But the joy on his face when I pulled the collar from my pocket on the day I picked him up!

The collar was once again in my hand. I was about to put it on another stray; another dog with no name. When Old Dog would eventually leave my home to live with his new owners, he would be wearing this light blue collar - it was possible that I would never see this old dog or the blue collar again. I was torn about putting it on him. The collar represented a lot of patient love, and the struggles that KC had to overcome. It was a blue badge that spoke to me of courage, hope, and of winning KC's trust. Should I run down to the store and buy a different collar for this old dog? . . . . . . no. KC didn't need this collar anymore. He would never wear it again. And Old Dog had nothing to wear.

I held the collar out to Old Dog. He understood, stretched his head out to receive it, and a happy smile spread over his face. All the while I had stood there thinking about giving it to him, he had been silently sitting in front of me, watching me and hoping that I would put it on him. He wanted to wear the collar! He wanted to belong to somebody again.

"Do you have to go outside?" Old Dog trotted to the back door and waited for me to open it. Somebody had spent time talking to this dog. He knew a routine. I hooked a leash to him and we went out for a walk. Old Dog stepped hesitantly at first. Where was I taking him? Was I taking him away?!

"Heel." A look of confidence returned and Old Dog put his head up proudly. It had been awhile since he had heard that word. But he understood what it meant and he walked gracefully by my side. It was good to hear familiar words again.

Somebody had trained this dog well - and then he had ended up in a shelter.

Copyright © 1999, 2001 by Grace Saalsaa. Reprinted with permission of the author.