Best--and Most Expensive--Rescued Dog Ever

During my years as a volunteer with the SPCA/Humane Society of Prince George's County, my husband and I fostered 17 dogs...mostly puppies. They were all adorable and I have fond memories of each and every one of them, but I'll also confess to having a few favorites. Among these extra-special temporary Townsend pack members was Jack, a German shepherd mix pup who came into our care when he was just eight weeks old. Given his adorable looks and joyful, happy-go-lucky personality, it wasn't long before he caught the eye--and captured the heart--of a woman named Brenda.

From our first conversation, it was obvious that Brenda was one of those people who consider their dogs family members and that she would do anything and everything within her power to ensure their health and happiness. After mourning the passing of a previous dog, she was eager to welcome a new canine companion for herself and her Australian shepherd, Josie. And she was convinced Jack was the one.

And she was right. From the very beginning, Jack and Josie were a mutual appreciation society of two! Although they were very different--she a Lady and he more of a Tramp--they brought out the best in each other. He was the Yin to her Yang.

So it wasn't surprising when that when Josie died, Jack became deeply depressed, not wanting to get up in the morning and showing little interest in life. It was only when Brenda adopted a new puppy, Lacey, that Jack's happy, carefree nature blossomed once again. His relationship with Lacey is very different than his relationship with Josie--she's quite a little pistol--but they enjoy each other's company and their life with Brenda, which includes a huge yard to play in and regular trips to the Outer Banks.

But it hasn't been all roses and sunshine. Over the years, Jack has been afflicted with a variety of health issues, including a serious form of irritable bowel disease that requires a special diet, regular medication, and even occasional emergency hospital stays. And he recently underwent surgery to repair a ruptured a canine cruciate ligament (the dog equivalent of an ACL). Can you say "cha-ching"?

Good thing Brenda adores him...as you can see from this lovefest! 

"Best--and most expensive--rescued dog ever!," she says with a laugh.

Bonnie Brings Joy Back

Dog photo of the week: Bonnie

My mother describes Bonnie as a godsend, which for my parents she is. A young adult yellow Labrador retriever, Bonnie found herself in a southern shelter following the divorce of her people at the same time that my parents were looking for a canine companion to fill a very large hole in their lives.

That hole was created by the death of their beloved yellow Lab Abby, who succumbed to hemangiosarcoma at the age 14 years. An energetic, affectionate, loving dog, Abby was in all the ways that matter my parents' youngest child. And when she died, their grief was beyond measure.

It took many months before they were ready to even consider opening their hearts to another dog, but, eventually, they decided the time was right...that they could not continue to live their lives without a dog.

They knew they wanted another yellow Lab, so I helped them find some breed rescue organizations online and encouraged them to submit applications and inquire about specific dogs whose photos and profiles attracted their attention. After a few "close calls," they learned about Abby and after talking at length with the rescue group representative, decided to adopt her.

When the big day arrived, my parents drove to a designated rest stop, where the transport--full of dogs heading for new homes and new lives in the Northeast--was scheduled to stop. The sense of anticipation and excitement was palpable. When the truck pulled in to the parking lot, the waiting crowd burst into applause.

One by one, Labs of all ages, sizes, and colors were walked or carried off the truck. Finally, a large yellow Lab emerged. My parents were stunned. Having raised two short, compact, English-type Labs, they were unprepared for Bonnie's size. "She looked like a pony," my mother recalls. (In reality, Bonnie is an American field Lab...taller and lankier with a thinner face than the typical English Lab.)

Once they recovered from their surprise and brought their new family member home, the process of healing from the loss of Abby began and a new, beautiful relationship blossomed. Bonnie will never replace Abby (as no new companion can--or should--replace another) but she has brought joy into my parents' lives again. She plays ball in the back yard with my mother, takes walks with my father, explores local parks and woods with them, keeps them company when they're on the computer or reading the paper, and climbs into their bed for morning cuddle sessions.

Bonnie adores my parents and they adore her. It doesn't get much better than that!

It Matters

The shelter where I work recently took in several dogs from Korea. They were rescued by Humane Society International from a dog meat farm, where canines are raised as agricultural animals for human consumption.

Surprisingly, the adult dogs seem remarkably friendly and social. Sadly, the puppies are a different story. They cower, growl…and threaten to bite, requiring the use of thick blankets to pick them up and handle them. It’s impossible to ignore the emotional, psychological pain in their eyes.

Still, where there’s life, there’s hope. And we all hope that, at 2 to 3 months old (we’re guesstimating since a thorough physical exam was made impossible by their fear aggression), that they are young enough to overcome their mistreatment and lack of human socialization. Only time will tell.

On a larger scale, will the rescue of a couple dozen dogs from Korea do anything to curb the dog meat trade in Korea or other countries? Unlikely. But as expressed so well by the late naturalist, poet, scientist, and humanist Loren Eisley in The Star Thrower*, that doesn’t mean that this rescue didn’t matter.

In fact, for these few dogs, nothing in their lives will ever matter more.

*Once, on ancient Earth, there was a human boy walking along a beach. There had just been a storm, and starfish had been scattered along the sands. The boy knew the fish would die, so he began to fling the fish to the sea. But every time he threw a starfish, another would wash ashore. "An old Earth man happened along and saw what the child was doing. He called out, “Boy, what are you doing?”  “Saving the starfish!” replied the boy. “But your attempts are useless, child! Every time you save one, another one returns, often the same one! You can't save them all, so why bother trying? Why does it matter, anyway?” called the old man. The boy thought about this for a while, a starfish in his hand; he answered, “Well, it matters to this one.”

Love Song to Sweet Baby Ray

Working and volunteering for animal rescue and welfare organizations, I meet a lot of animals, particularly dogs. Virtually all of them are nice, highly adoptable animals, destined to make some lucky people great canine companions.

But every once in a while there’s a dog that has that “something extra”…at least as far as I’m concerned. Maybe it’s the way they cock their head or a certain look in their eyes or the cute way they place their paw on my hand; whatever the reason, these special canines just strike a special chord in me. I find myself caring deeply about their future. And if circumstances allowed, I’d readily welcome any one of them as permanent members of our “pack.”


Take Sweet Baby Ray, for example. This 5-year-old treeing Walker coonhound is one of 10 hunting dogs rescued from a rural property in Virginia during an investigation into illegal moonshine production and placed into the care of the Washington Animal Rescue League.


Like his canine companions, Baby Ray bears the physical and psychological scars of an unsocialized, neglectful life. The edges of his ears are rough and ragged, he’s missing a couple of teeth, his muzzle and paws are scarred from running through brush. He’s timid and uncertain about the world around him; ascending and descending a flight of stairs yesterday took a fair bit of gentle but enthusiastic encouragement…probably because he’d never seen stairs before. He doesn’t understand toys; no surprise since he’s probably never had one before.

But in my eyes, Baby Ray is beautiful.


Those big, brindled, raggedy ears are soft as velvet, and as I stroke them, he tilts his head back and turns his big brown eyes—eyes that can look surprised, interested, or soulful—upward in an expression of quiet ecstasy. A scratch along his back elicits a similar pose as he stands completely still…as if afraid to break the spell of pleasure. And when I sit or lie on the floor and encourage him, he curls his long-legged body like a corkscrew, head downward, until he rolls onto his side for a tummy rub and places a scarred paw gently on my arm.


Like I said, beautiful, both inside and out.



I’m not quite sure why Sweet Baby Ray has not yet been adopted. All that means, however, is that you still have a chance to make this special boy your very own canine companion. Come meet him at the Washington Animal Rescue League.

Update: Sweet Baby Ray was adopted on 1/20/12!