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Puppy Rescue Stories

Justin died from neglect

Brennan hit by a car

Freckles pregnant and dumped

How Could You?

Justin died from neglect

Justin was only four months old when he died from malnourishment. He was suffering from rickets because he did not get enough calcium. Justin had been taken from the pound by Puppy Rescue and and it was hoped that he could be brought back to health as a good home was waiting for him. He was just too malnourished to win the fight, despite the vet's best efforts. He was a little fighter but just didn't have the strength. Justin should not have been in this state and this is the type of neglect that Puppy Rescue hopes to help eradicate. Justin is pictured below.

Justin, died from malnutrition caused by neglect
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Brennan hit by a car

Poor Brennan was hit by a car and had to have a metal pin inserted in his leg in September 2004. Brennan had his pin removed, but despite his struggles he could still not use his leg and had to have an external fixator put on.

Unfortunately, that didn't work either as the bones just would not knit together. The injury was left for too long without attention before he came to puppy rescue.

The decision was made to remove Brennan's hind leg. This was a last resort but the only one. Brennan had a new home waiting for him anyway, no matter how many legs he had. The vet operated and all went well with the leg but Brennan went into shock, he was revived but during the night he went into shock again. This time he could not be revived and he died.

Brennan was such a smashing little dog, good natured and kind. He went through such a lot of suffering but still was so affectionate and gave the vet big licks. He really deserved to live and have a wonderful life. I feel as though I have lost one of my own dogs, he was really as he had been here for over four months and we got to know each other so well.

Brennan, died from road accident
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Freckles, pregnant and dumped

Freckles was only two years old when she was found abandoned, quite possibly because she was gun shy and "useless" to a hunter.

Poor Freckles was left to roam the roads, pregnant and hungry. When she came to puppy rescue she was so thin it was painful to look at.

Freckles had seven little puppies, four boys and three girls. However, Freckles was so weak and malnourished that on November 30th she had to be put on a drip at the vets and her milk dried up. Freckles had to stay at the vets until December 3rd.

Because Freckles had no milk her puppies had to be hand-fed, every two hours day or night. Even though Freckles was sick and weak herself she still washed and cared for her babies in every way she could and wagged her tail anytime someone came to visit her.

Five of freckles puppies died, this might not have happened if Freckles had been cared for through her pregnancy, instead of abandoned.

After alot of care and special supplements, Freckles and one of her baby boys went to a home together and her remaining son also happily found a good home.

Things like this happen every day.

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How could you?

A man in Grand Rapids, Michigan incredibly took out a US $7,000 full page ad in the paper to present the HOW COULD YOU? story.

By Jim Willis, 2001

When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend.

Whenever I was "bad," you'd shake your finger at me and ask "How could you?" -- but then you'd relent and roll me over for a belly rub.

My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect.

We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs" you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.

Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love.

She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" -- still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy.

Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a prisoner of love."

As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch -- because your touch was now so infrequent -- and I would've defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway.

There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf.

Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family.

I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers."

You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed, "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life.

You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked "How could you?"

They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago.

At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you that you had changed your mind -- that this was all a bad dream... or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me.

When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited. I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room.

She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days.

As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood.

She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago.

She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?"

Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said "I'm so sorry." She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself --a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place.

And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not directed at her. It was directed at you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you. I will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.

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A Note from the Author:

If "How Could You?" brought tears to your eyes as you read it, as it did to mine as I wrote it, it is because it is the composite story of the millions of formerly "owned" pets who die each year in American and Canadian animal shelters. Anyone is welcome to distribute the essay for a noncommercial purpose, as long as it is properly attributed with the copyright notice.

Please use it to help educate, on your websites, in newsletters, on animal shelter and vet office bulletin boards. Tell the public that the decision to add a pet to the family is an important one for life, that animals deserve our love and sensible care, that finding another appropriate home for your animal is your responsibility and any local humane society or animal welfare league can offer you good advice, and that all life is precious.

Please do your part to stop the killing, and encourage all spay and neuter campaigns in order to prevent unwanted animals.

Jim Willis

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