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Angela Bassett Hound

by Cherie Damron (co-founder of Untold Animal Stories)

718848917_c1ad164ee0A few years ago I moved back to the small town in rural NC where I grew up.  I started volunteering at the local animal shelter, photographing adoptable dogs and cats for the shelter’s Petfinder.com site and the “Pet of the Week” feature in the local paper.  I’ve always had a soft spot for seniors and animals with special needs, shy pets, and animals needing assistance.  I started a small rescue service, taking as many of the dogs as I could that weren’t likely to be put up for adoption, finding foster homes for them or working with other rescues outside of the area (usually in the northeast).

One day in May 2007, Animal Control was called to come and pick up Angela, a 6-year old female basset hound, and take her to be put down.  Her back legs had become paralyzed and she was unable to walk or urinate on her own.  Had Angela gone to the shelter, she would have been immediately euthanized (there is no “hold period” for owner surrenders of high-needs/unadoptable pets).

The Animal Control officer knew I loved hounds and called me as she was leaving Angela’s house to see if I were willing to take her.  I met the truck before it arrived at the shelter and took Angela directly to our veterinarian.  He explained the surgery that was needed, which had to be done at a specialty hospital, and left it up to me and my partner, John, to make our decision.  There was no decision to make for me, and when John looked into those big, sad basset eyes as Angela sat crumpled in the corner of the exam room, he knew we were about to embark on a very expensive, difficult mission.

Off we went to the Veterinary Specialty Hospital in Cary, NC.  Doc called ahead to schedule surgery to correct the two ruptured disk in her spine.  The surgery had to take place within 24 hours of injury or the likelihood of her walking again would be slim.  Angela was taken in to surgery that night.

Angela came through the surgery very well, although bloodwork revealed that she is Heartworm Positive and has antibodies for both Erlichiosis and Rocky Mtn. Spotted Fever, 2 tick-borne diseases.  I brought her home from the hospital two days later.  Angela was still unable to walk or urinate on her own at that time; however, she had no problem wagging her tail!

By Day 4 Angela was going to the bathroom on her own and there was very slight movement in each of her back legs. By Day 9 she was still unable to support her weight or walk without a sling, but there was a great deal of movement in her legs and she “pedalled” in the air as if she were walking.567079651_8e08b6735f

Exactly three weeks after surgery, Angela took a few steps on her own without the assistance of the sling.  Five days later, she was walking completely unassisted by a sling, and although slightly wobbly, she was able to stand still and support herself without swaying from side to side.

A week later Angela had a setback—she became depressed, lethargic, and stopped eating entirely.  She had a temperature of 105.5, and a full-blown case of Erlichiosis.  Four days of hospitalization, IV fluids, and antibiotics later, she was on the mend but fragile.

567089635_de0fba56ecShe came through that, completed her Heartworm treatment, and just prior to her spay surgery, Angela’s teats started growing and she began “nesting” type behavior. There was no possibility of pregnancy, as she hadn’t been in contact with any except my pets, and mine were all neutered.  Our vet suspected a “pseudo-pregnancy,” which I had never even heard of.  We went ahead with the spay surgery and the pseudo-pregnancy was confirmed.

Finally the medical procedures were done and Angela could start being a dog.  Throughout her recovery her personality blossomed.  Angela Bassett Hound has become a fun, happy lady with a huge voice and a very, very big heart.  She loves everyone she meets.  Now, 6 1/2 years after her surgery, at almost 13 years old, Angela has moved across country twice, attended Basset Tea Parties” with founders, and although she is slowing down a bit, she now loves to run and play on the beaches of Cape Cod.  I am so very grateful that I’ve had the chance to have this wonderful being in my life.2011 11 26_0270

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The Starry Night Was My Blanket

My path here was roundabout, here being a place with space to roam and explore within a context of belonging.  Here I’ve come to know something I’d not known before: trust.  Sometimes it feels foreign, and I retreat back to my native high alertness.

I had lived on a ranch where I had a job to do: tending the livestock.  I took my job seriously and performed it with singular focus, but the time came when the cattle were moved and the people left.  I ran after their truck, sure there had been some mistake, until I could run no longer.  I returned to the empty place; knowing no other place else since puppyhood, I stayed.

There was a trickle of water at the edge of the property from which I drank.  I passed my days foraging for food.  The starry night was my blanket, the warm sun my companion, the rain my welcome, thirst-quenching friend.  And so I passed my time.

One day I saw a car coming from a distance, a cloud of dust trailing behind it.  People I didn’t know emerged from the car.  It was the woman who saw me first, pointing me out to the others then calling to me.  I approached her cautiously.

She stooped down, holding her hand out to me.  I looked into her eyes then walked to her.  She touched my forehead, my ears, my neck and spoke to me quietly.  I didn’t understand her words, but I understood her.  She placed her hand on my spiny back, each finger resting in an indent between my ribs.

They took me to their house.  I hung behind as we walked in, as I’d never before been inside a house.  A cat at the far side of the room arched his back and widened his eyes.  I looked toward the woman for reassurance, who nodded.  I moved slowly toward the cat, my head hung low to show respect.  I reached my neck forward and touched his nose with my nose.  The cat sat down and began bathing his paw.  I went back and stood beside the woman, glancing up to her to make sure I’d done the right thing.  She placed her hand gently on my head.  I closed my eyes.

These days, there is a cedar-smelling bed near the woodstove and bowls of fresh food and water for me, always.  Sometimes I walk to the far edge of the property and sit on the bluff.  From there I gaze out toward the place I used to live and back toward the place I now call home.  I almost always lay my head on my paws and, under the big sky, doze.  Later, I rise, shake myself off, and follow the familiar path home.  There, I am greeted with love, always.

•photo by untoldanimalstories.org co-founder Cherie Damron, http://cdamron.exposuremanager.com/

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Kuruk: The Little Bear that Could

We have the pleasure of featuring a guest post by Kuruk (with Julianne Victoria)   

I was born near Wasilla, Alaska into a large pack of 170 Alaskan Malamutes.  That’s much bigger than wolf packs, but we haven’t been wolves for thousands of years. We much prefer to be with people, helping them work and lounging with them.  But my pack was trapped in this place that humans call a puppy mill.

I vaguely remember playing with my siblings when we were very small and free to wrestle in the snow and explore a little.  Mostly, though, I remember being on that four-foot chain, like all of my pack family.  I tried to make the most of it by learning how to play without getting all twisted up.  I must have learned well, because my Mama now says I am like Houdini (whoever that is) and can get unwrapped no matter how tangled I might get my leash.

My puppyhood was not easy.  Often we didn’t have enough to eat or drink and survived by eating snow with a little dirt.  I didn’t like it, but I didn’t know anything else.  When I was about one year old, things got even worse and some of our pack started to die.  The grandparent pups told us kids stories about warm, dry homes where pups lived alongside humans and got lots of food, water, and best of all…treats!  I didn’t know what that was, but they made it sound awesome.

One day when all seemed hopeless, some humans came and put us all in crates and trucks.  I was terrified.  I had never left this place I called home.  They took all of us to a shelter where we were inspected by doctors.  My anxiety was so severe that I was put on medication.  I don’t know if it helped because I was still very nervous and shy, but at least I now had food.

After a few months, four of us were put into crates and flown to Seattle by the Washington Alaskan Malamute Adoption League (WAMAL).  They gave me the name “Kuruk,” which means “Bear” in the Native American Pawnee language.

After a short stay in a kennel I went to live with Foster Mama Miss Cindy and her two snow pups, Tara and Timber.  She took us hiking a lot, but everything was so new that my anxiety was bad.  After about a month I started to understand the leash thing and even like the hikes.  Tara was my shining star—she showed me to trust humans and enjoy nature.

And then a lady named Mama and a big Malamute named Simba came to visit me. They asked if I would like to live with them.  I was shy and nervous, but I said ok.  The day before my new Mama took me home, I approached Miss Cindy for the first time and crawled on her lap to say thank you for all she did for me.

My Mama took to my very own home.  The stories the grandparent pups had told us were true—I couldn’t believe it!  I still needed lots of healing, but over time I got better and better.  Big brother Simba taught me everything he knew, and Mama poured lots of love into me.  I gained 50 pounds since being rescued, was quickly off the medication, eventually stopped pacing all the time, and slowly got used to people.  Children were especially frightening, but now, two years later, I like to give them kisses.

It’s been a long journey.  Sometimes I’m still a little shy around strangers, but usually I will say hello.  Mama is very proud of me.  I even had the courage to start my own poetry blog, www.haikubyku.com.  I am also working on completing a book about my rescue story, including some haiku, and will donate a portion of the proceeds to animal rescue groups.

I am so thankful for being rescued, and I want to help other animals like me.  We all deserve to be loved!  Wooooowooooooo!

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• When you buy dogs from pet stores (and some private owners), you are likely buying from puppy mills.  The exceptions are PetSmart and PetCo, which feature adoptable pets from local rescues and shelters.  Please adopt from rescue organizations/shelters.  One in four pets in shelters nationwide is a purebred.

•• To view a video about Kuruk’s rescue, please view: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZeBOs9gqXQ

•••  To be a guest blogger, please contact us via our contact page or at untoldanimalstories@gmail.com   We’d be delighted!