I left work early on Thursday so I could get to the shelter before it closed. The staff quickly and efficiently processed my paperwork and brought out a delightful energetic young female. She announced she was ready to go to Doberhof.
As I was turning to lead her out to the car, a tough-looking young man in a Human Society uniform beckoned me to wait, and wound his way over to me through the crowd in the reception area. He asked whether I could take a look at a male Doberman he had just brought in. I was about to make the embarrassed "We're full, I'm really sorry," speech. But something in his manner stopped me.
We had one of the reception staff hold the little female and I followed the young man to the upstairs kennels. It was hard to hear him over the ruckus from the dogs that we walked past, but I gathered he worked as an abuse investigator and had picked up the male Doberman in one of the poorer parts of Fort Worth, acting on a tip from an anonymous caller. We rounded a corner and found a large black male, with a coarse coat showing he lived outdoors, very short cropped ears, and a massive studded black leather collar. He sat quietly amidst all the hullabaloo from the neighboring dogs, and just stared up at me.
His head had several terrible bite marks, some fresh, some oozing infection. His forelegs were scarred and bitten. His sides were cut and matted with dried blood. I asked what had happened.
The young man explained that the dog had been used as pit-bull bait, to see whether the pit-bulls had enough fight in them to be used in the ring. He had been
chained to a metal stake in the front yard of a run-down house. The young man had watched several people bring their dogs up to the Doberman and incite them to attack.
Fortunately, the police responded to his 911 call and interrupted the carnage. While the police controlled the men present,
the young man walked over to the Doberman, unbolted the chain from the studded collar, and announced that the dog was suffering from Parvo and
would have to be surrendered to the shelter or he would die. The young man placed the dog in his truck and drove him away.
I'm used to walking shelters. I am accomplished at steeling my heart to the countless furry faces as I search for Dobermans. Sure, it was hard at first. But you can learn to deal with the knowledge that the bright eyes you pass up will not see sunset. You have to tell yourself you can't save them all. None of that did me any good as I contemplated the Doberman we did not have room for, as tears welled up in my eyes. "Could we check his teeth, to see how old he is?" I choked out.
"Sure."
We entered the kennel. The dog stood quietly and let me rub his ears, and check his teeth. He looked to be five or six years old. I had to be careful touching his face, to not hurt him by touching his wounds. I stood up, took a few breaths to try to regain control and said, "When can I pick him up?" I had to stare at the floor, after all this is Texas and real men don't cry.
Under Texas Law, the Doberman had to remain in the shelter for three days, making him eligible for release the following Sunday evening. The young man told me he would ask the shelter vet to look the dog over on Friday.
When I got home I unloaded the little female and took her out to the kennel runs. It was dinner time. After we put her in a large run with three other friendly characters (I told you we were over full), I explained about the male to Julie. She looked over at me as I finished my short story, having heard the catch in my voice. "We'll fit him in. Don't worry."
Like I said, some people are no good at following instructions. But sometimes it doesn't matter.
* * *
FOLLOWING INSTRUCTIONS - PART II
Dear Doberworld;
I'm writing this from my office in Fort Worth. I have a case going to trial in a week or two and need to get a few things written while I have the peace to think creatively. On my way in early this afternoon, I stopped by the Humane Society shelter to check up on the male dog, and see if maybe, just maybe, they would release the male dog to me early.
Jamie, the operations manager heard my plea. He explained how the dog would have to stay until 5:00 p.m. today, because a dog is not theirs until it has been in their custody for three days. I asked whether we could take him home now, while we had people to bathe and care for him if I promised to bring him back if they called.
Jamie didn't even bat an eye. "That will be just fine."
So the male, now named Wayne in honor of Wayne Gretsky, who also NEVER gave up, is home. I realize my eyes weren't focusing very well last Thursday. He is absolutely tick-encrusted. I left him with Julie and Martha. They were about to bathe him and remove the ticks. He's already had a shot for the bites and infection.
Personality-wise, he is about the same as Thursday. He is quiet and calm. He saw the horses and was curious, but no growling or barking. Part of his calm could be from the ticks. We'll see how he does as he heals and gets healthy again.
Thank you all for your kind thoughts.
* * *
WAYNE UPDATE - 1
Dear Doberworld;
Wayne is doing great.
He went through a long tick-removal session on Sunday afternoon, had a bath and generally was fussed over.
Yesterday, Ruby, one of our members, came out and spent hours with him again, continuing with tick removal and fussing over him. I think the tick-removal phase is pretty much complete. Wayne got a dose of Ivomec yesterday to worm him and kill microfilaria. He took that in stride.
This morning, I took him out for a long ramble off-leash. He poked through the thick brush behind our storage shed, checked out the horse pens, and explored the hill down by our gate. He played a little with Cheyenne, my female, and followed her into the woods to sniff for rabbits. I think he feels better without all the ticks.
He likes cheese.
He is remarkably well adjusted, friendly, and calm. Of course, it is early days yet, so we will know a lot more about him after we live with him for a while.
* * *
Dear Doberworld;
I was reminded that I have not updated you on Wayne in over a week. Let me remedy that.
Wayne went to the vet last week and was found to be heartworm positive. No real surprise, he will be treated in a couple of weeks when we know his
system has recovered from the masses of ticks that covered his body.
He is healing quickly. We had some adopters here on Sunday who saw him when he arrived just over two weeks ago. They couldn't believe he is the same dog.
A very special person drove for hours to bring him treats this past Sunday. She plans to adopt him provided her Doberman will accept him. We were really busy so I could not spend any time talking to her.
When someone opens their heart to a dog like Wayne, the ripples shake all of us that are around. The kindness and gentleness in this person have shaken me. I truly believe that the finest people on the world are Doberman people. She is one of them. So if her young Dobergirl will give an older Doberguy a chance, Wayne will go to an outstanding home. Happily, the homeowner is one of us here, on Doberworld. She will be able to keep us up to date with Wayne.
The animal control officer who saved Wayne was named Citizen of the Week by KRLD Radio, just as we hoped. I think he knows how grateful we all are.
* * *
Dear Doberworld;
When you rescue a dog, despite your best efforts, you may experience twists and turns of fate that challenge your faith. And then there are the times when every one of your wishes comes true, and you know there is a greater force than any of us. And you come to realize that, to that greater force, the suffering of dogs matters.
When I first told you about Wayne, he was sitting alone in a shelter, saved from a frightful existence by the courage of a young man who did the right thing. In my email message, I attempted to convey the sensations and thoughts that meeting Wayne brought to me. I had no plan, I just needed to write about him to my friends.
One of the members of this list lost her male Doberman to cancer this year. The apple of her eye, an outstanding obedience competitor, he was taken Home early. That loss had sapped her interest in following our little tussles and exchanges on Doberworld. A Doberman lover and former frequent contributor to our discussions, she found she just had no heart to read the exuberance and enthusiasm that so many express. Her sorrow made it too painful.
For some reason, the meaningless title I put on my email about Wayne prompted her to pick that one message out of the hundreds that she passed by. My words struck a chord in her heart, and unbeknownst to Wayne, there was someone far away who was already taken with his resolute strength and stoicism.
She drove to Dallas and spent a Sunday curled up with Wayne in our living room. By the time she left, she was under his spell, hoping her female Dobe would accept him.
The next week, her busy schedule made driving to Dallas impossible, so she flew here to be with him. While we had watched his strength and energy grow day by day as he gained weight and recovered from the diseases his previous existence and burden of ticks had inflicted, she did not see any change. When she was here, he simply sat like a statue, with his head on her leg, and soaked up the care and affection she poured over him. We told her he was energetic, that he would wake me up in the middle of the night to go chasing rabbits with Cheyenne, but I sensed she doubted us a little, and was fearful that something was lurking within him. Before she left, we agreed to schedule him for neutering that week, and heartworm treatment the next. He had stolen her heart, and she was eager for him to become a daily participant in her life.
Normally, neutering is routine. Julie drops the dog at the vet on her way to school, and picks him up, a few ounces lighter, on her way home. But we know it can be dangerous. We lost a six month old puppy to a heart attack while he was being neutered this past spring. That shook us, so we never take it for granted. Everyone said good-bye to Wayne and hugged him before he left.
Wayne never came home.
One of the tribulations of our modern Internet-dependent lifestyle is reliance on someone else's computer. Last weekend, the mail server for our dobermanrescue.org domain had some sort of spasm and refused to deliver any email to us. While a lot of mail comes to us to our main email addresses, including Doberworld, some people address their email to brucer@dobermanrescue.org or juliem@dobermanrescue.org None of those messages could get through, they just accumulated at the server until we could burp it and get it working again. During the day, while Wayne was in surgery, there was a satisfying belch, and the email came pouring in for us to read.
One message concerned Wayne. While she was flying home, inspiration had struck the person that wanted to adopt him. Would it be OK if Wayne was renamed Polo?
Polo came though his neutering without missing a beat. Heck, he never needed those old things anyway. Polo feels good. While the rabbits might be a little faster than he is, he still wakes me up every night around 2:00 a.m. to go running outside with Cheyenne and see if he can surprise one of those rascals.
When I stand at the door and call into the dark, "Polo! Come here Polo!" there is a moment's silence, and then in he gallops, satisfied that the world is safe from rabbits for a few more hours.
It is my pleasure and privilege to announce that Polo has been adopted by Cindy Sidell, of Houston. We anticipate that he will go to his new home within a week or two. We could not wish for a better home, and from watching Cindy, she feels like she could not have wished for a finer dog. He needed her, and suddenly she was there. And for that, we will forever be grateful.
Polo goes in for heartworm treatment tomorrow. I look forward to telling you how he has weathered that storm as well. As the title of this message says, this was the final update on Wayne's progress. Stay tuned for news of Polo!
* * *
Dear Doberworld
So Bruce has finally "outed" me and my desire to have "Wayne" become a Sidell as soon as possible. Thank goodness!! It's been hard not to yell it from the rooftops!!!
Bruce is correct when he says that losing Wheel was so painful I couldn't bear to read amusing stories about Dobes. I even signed off Doberworld for a while -- and, when I signed back on, I deleted most digests without even reading any of the posts. Why I found the subject line "Following Instructions" curious enough to scroll down and read it, I don't know...well, yes I do -- it was Fate. It was Fate that a brave young man rescued a staked-out, tick-covered, pit-bull-bait Dobe from what was surely a tragic life and what would surely have been an even more agonizing death. It was Fate that Bruce happened to be in the animal shelter, picking up "just one more" Dobe, a female, when he saw "Wayne" and couldn't resist taking him to Doberhof too.
I'm certain that Wheel was whispering in my ear as I read "Wayne's story. Maybe he was even whispering in Bruce's ear as Bruce wrote it.
In any event, Wayne was on my thoughts day and night after I read Bruce's post. I couldn't wait to get up to Dallas to visit him -- and, once I saw him, my heart knew that, if Bruce and Julie would allow it, he'd be coming home with me when he was well enough. Despite his background, he's absolutely the kindest, most gentle Dobe for which anyone could wish, absolutely breath-taking, both inside and out -- and I feel very lucky that Bruce and Julie have seen fit to allow me to adopt him.
He'll spend the rest of his life eating off my plate, sleeping on my bed, running at fenced-in school yards and going out to the training school to hang out with other dogs. Who knows -- if he's healthy enough and likes no-leash, no-collar training, he may even get a CD. And maybe someday you'll see the name "Dobe Rescue of N TX Polo" in the Top 20 Obedience rankings.
Regardless, I'll always be grateful to Bruce and to Julie....and, of course, to Fate.
* * *
How are you? I am fine. Camp is OK, but I want to go home. I think Birdy came into season early on purpose, just so I'd have to stay at camp a week longer. That's OK, I know that girls do stuff like that.
Heartworm treatment was no big deal, although I didn't really like being at the vet all that much. The vets were nice, but I like my friends at Doberhof better.
I really liked it when you came to visit me on Sunday. The treats were really good, and I liked all the kisses and the way you spent all your time with me. The black underpants were really nice. Sorry I'm so big I didn't fit them very well. Julie says she can make them a bit bigger for me so I don't have to wear Bruce's old shorts (yuck).
Tonight I made a new friend. His name is Baron, he's a red rescue Doberman that they brought into the house because he seemed sad. He was a bit scared, but was friendly to me, so I showed him where all the good smells are.
If you have a friend that wants a really cool female special needs Doberman, you should tell them about Essie (that's what I call Escapade). She had to have her leg amputated a couple of weeks ago, but she is nice to all the dogs and tonight was running around faster than I do! She wanted me to ask you, has a three-legged Doberman with a big heart ever got a CD? I like her a lot and think she maybe could do it with the right person.
I know I can't go home next weekend, that's OK. Besides, this way I get to go to the Doberpub (hopefully) when you come to get me.
I love you, Mom, and miss you.
Your Doberson,
Polo
* * *
Dear Mom (via Doberworld);
This will be my last letter from camp. I started packing tonight. Mostly I packed one of Bruce's shoes all over the house.
They showed me an email today. You wrote that you are going to pick me up from Bruce in Conroe on Friday morning. I am excited and can't wait to go home.
My heartworm treatment has left me feeling really good. I have a lot more energy than I used to. I am bugged sometimes by other dogs that try to get on my bed when I am lying on it, but all I do is give a deep growl. I have found that if I get up in the middle of the night and pace the floor, that Bruce will open the door and let me run out with Cheyenne. Then we chase bunnies. In the dark, I can see the bunnies out the window when Bruce can't. We have fun.
I like to have a good breakfast and a hearty dinner. I eat Science Diet Maintenance dry food mixed with some S.D. Maintenance canned food. I enjoy my meals and polish them off quickly. I think Julie wants me to gain a few more pounds. But everyone tells me I look really handsome. Lately, the volunteers have been coming in to tell me good-bye and crying a little. Why were they crying when I'm so happy about going home?
In my last letter I told you about Baron, the red male who was afraid, and Essie, the black female with only three legs. They were both adopted last weekend. Essie now lives with Bruce and Julie's vet and his wife. They are very close friends with Bruce and Julie. And Baron was adopted by some very nice people too. It was amazing how much confidence he gained in just a week living in the house. I was happy for my friends when they got to go to their new homes, just like I will on Friday.
Well, I better go. Its bed time and I want to get my soft bed in front of the window in the living room.
I love you, Mom, and miss you.
Your Doberson,
Polo
* * *
Dear Doberworld;
Someone asked me in a Doberworld post:
He seems like the perfect dog who always had a perfect life. And we know he didn't. So I'm curious. Is he showing no signs of having been abused? Did he leave all his baggage in that shelter Bruce rescued him from? Was all the love heaped upon him from Bruce, Julie, and you enough for him to get past all that?
Baggage? He didn't even bring a toothbrush with him!
Bruce and Julie had told me that he was a "special dog" and they can certainly read dogs correctly. Polo is truly an example of "nature vs nurture". He has NO behavioral problems...and, to be honest, I did expect some. He's very friendly to other dogs, cats and people. He follows me everywhere (how nice not to be able to go to the bathroom alone again). He investigates every new situation confidently and he fits into my home as though he'd always been here.
If I HAD to find one piece of "baggage", it might be that he's so sad when I leave the house. When I go to work in the AM, I always throw treats all over the living room for the dogs to hunt and scoff up so they won't notice (or care) that I'm leaving. Polo is the only Dobe I've ever had who'll pass up the goodies and try to follow me out to the garage. His eyes at that time break my heart -- but I'm hoping that he'll eventually learn to trust that I'll always come back to him.
I trimmed his nails the other night -- he lay on his back and held his legs straight up in the air for me to cut the nails with ease. He loves to be touched so much that you can do anything to him!!!
Bruce and Julie thought he might have some housebreaking accidents but he learned to use the doggie-door right away, found Wheel's favorite backyard trees, and has been totally housebroken since Day One. He and Birdy always have free run of the house -- he doesn't chew, doesn't bark (except when inviting play) and isn't destructive. He thinks my backyard looks too sparse and loves to transfer items through the doggie-door while I'm gone -- so I now leave "throw-downs" (empty boxes, old water bowls, old towels, old fabric dog collars, etc.) for him to carry outside.
I thought I was doing Polo a favor by giving him a good life -- turns out I'm the one who got the favor....
* * *
Dear Doberworld;
Polo has obviously tired of the "throw-down" items I've been leaving (on top of the washer/dryer, on my desk, etc.) for him to take through the doggie door as he redecorates my back yard every day. As you recall, I started leaving empty water buckets, old towels, old housecoats, and old doggie-collars for him to move from inside the house to the yard.
My next-door neighbor has told me that Polo likes to take a nap in my backyard every afternoon. I had my doubts about that -- why would a Dobe with any sense (and Polo is very intelligent) choose a hot backyard over an air-conditioned bed?
Today I learned that my neighbor is probably right. The sheets (including the fitted one) had been taken off the bed and were in a shady area of the backyard. As usual, there was not a tooth mark on them.
So now I have to find some throw-down sheets.......
* * *
POLO PLAYS DISHWASHER PIANO
Dear Doberworld;
I was trying to sleep a little late this AM and was awakened by the sound of my dishwasher running. I haven't used the dishwasher in months because its water pump is broken (it never fills up -- the water just runs and runs and runs...), so I was a bit surprised by the noise and stumbled out to the kitchen. There was Polo, pressing each of the buttons at random with his nose. I turned the switch by the sink to OFF so he couldn't play "dishwasher piano" any more -- but I shuddered to think what would have happened had I not been home this AM. And then I shuddered at the idea of getting my next water bill and finding out that Polo's been doing this regularly and just turning it off before I get home!
* * *
POLO'S THANKSGIVING WISH
Dear Doberworld;
As POLO gets up from his nap under the covers of a soft warm bed, having had a very filling Thanksgiving dinner, he'd like to remind everyone not only to appreciate what you have but also to realize that, no matter how bleak and overwhelming your troubles, there's always hope for better days ahead. And for that we should all be thankful.
* * *
Dear Doberworld;
You're aware that, when Polo first came to be part of my family, he spent his days (while I was at work) redecorating my backyard with household items -- bed sheets were moved though the doggie door to his favorite shady spot in a corner of the yard, as were stuffed animals and my housecoats. I wasn't inclined to do anything to interfere with his doings, as I enjoyed watching his personality emerge, and he's pretty much ceased moving the inside of my house outside, although I've found my pillow out there a couple of times lately.
While getting his and Birdy's dinners ready this past Thursday, I noticed that there was only one food bowl on the counter. I peered through the blinds and, sure enough, the other bowl was outside in "Polo's Party Place". I didn't bother to go get it and fed Polo his dinner in a less attractive container. Imagine my surprise the next morning, when the bowl re-appeared...not on the counter, of course, but on the floor right next to the spot on the counter where it's always kept. Hmmmm....I guess it really is true that some dogs think and some Dobes reason!!!
* * *
Dear Doberworld;
No one knows exactly where Polo was or what kind of life he was leading 365 days ago. It's a safe bet that, at best, he wasn't inside a warm house protected from the Dallas/Fort Worth cold -- that no one had bought a bigger bed so he could really stretch out at night (and day) -- and that no one planned his meals and his social calendar with as much love and appreciation as someone does now.
So it's with great amusement that I note he's getting a bit pushy when I try to skip a night of taking him out to run. A little while ago, he came up behind me and put both paws on my shoulders. Then he barked repeatedly at me and ran out to the garage. I followed him ("WHAT ARE YOU SAYING, POLO? TIMMY FELL IN THE WELL?") to the garage -- he went to the driver's door, stood there and continued to bark at me. He does not suffer in silence anymore.
* * *
Dear Doberworld
I took Birdy and Polo out to the training school late. The school owner has one room full of dog food bags for sale and she usually keeps a couple of cats in there to discourage the field mice from coming in. The room has a huge window, so you can see in there from the training area, and vice versa.
The cats are very quiet and usually never seen or heard. But that night, they were apparently curious enough about us that they were all in the window. That drove Birdy crazy and she buried her nose under the door into the room, as if trying to squeeze through the crack. Polo, on the other hand, backed up to assess the situation and then approached the door, placed his cheek hard alongside the doorknob and rotated his head in order to turn the knob. He probably would have been successful, too, had I not interrupted him and put up a baby-gate to keep him away from the door, as he's opened doors here at home that way since then. But watching him back up away from the door, look it over and then figure out how to turn the doorknob was breath-taking. Thinking about it still gives me chills.
* * *
Dear Doberworld;
I told someone that it's fortunate I don't know who was Polo's back-yard breeder, because I'd be going there for all my future Dobes. He really seems to analyze situations.
I laugh at his "attacks of the vapors" but it's almost frightening how he uses them to interrupt what he perceives may be "undesirable behavior" on the part of others. If he's chewing on something and I ask him "Polo, what have you got?", it's a given that he'll topple over onto his back, with all four feet extended, so quickly you'd think he had just dropped dead. If he does an obedience recall and I laughingly say "That's the ugliest recall I ever saw", he's on his back in an instant. If he's being petted by my next-door neighbor and I say "Come on, Polo, let's go home" I know I'm going to end up dragging an upside-down "blob of jello" across the yard.
The first time my neighbor saw his "attack of the vapors" he thought Polo had suffered an aneurysm!
It's definitely NOT a submissive gesture -- and I don't think it's stress, as I never talk to him in a loud or irritated tone (it's truly impossible to get upset with him). If he were to put his paw to his forehead, he couldn't be more dramatic as he falls over and it always achieves the desired results....everyone around him starts laughing uncontrollably. Where did he learn that? Is this part of his personality in his pedigree? Is it the fact that he apparently spent a lot of time on his own and had to learn things like this to survive?
* * *
Dear Doberworld;
OK, he's starting to scare me!!!
Just now Polo and Birdy were rough-housing. Usually, Birdy sits or lies down staring at Polo and he barks at her until she moves. Then they continue face-fighting. Her moving is the signal to him that it's OK to "attack".
Tonight Birdy was sitting on a huge fake-fur dog throw that's on top of the carpet, just staring intently at Polo while he barked -- but, despite his pleadings, she wouldn't move. In apparent frustration, he grabbed a corner of the dog throw and pulled on it, throwing her off balance and causing her to fall -- a movement which he considered the signal for which he'd been waiting!!
If I weren't afraid that his previous owner might recognize him (that left ear is very distinctive!), I'd find a talent agent for him. This guy belongs on TV or the big screen!!!!!
* * *
I don't know whether Polo's intelligence and personality are a result of his back-yard breeding or of his lifestyle for the first 5-6 years of his life -- or both. I'm thankful, though, that I didn't try to inhibit any of his "thru the doggie door" antics or other behaviors when he came to live with me -- watching him continue to blossom is both heartwarming and fulfilling. He's truly proof that we all do have guardian angels who tend to us in our darkest hours.
And, actually, although I'd love to believe that he's unique, I know there are lots of POLO's in Rescue Foster Homes and Shelters all over the country. All they need is a chance.
* * *
The emails posted above were sent in 1999 and 2000. Polo continued to be a wonderful dog and a great companion. He fought with cancer, but held it at bay. Through everything, he was a perfect gentleman, a credit to our breed.
The Doberman Pinscher Club of America has created an award in memory of Judith Felton, the woman who founded Doberman Rescue. Each year, one rescued Doberman is honored at the National Specialty show of the DPCA, as the recipient of the Judith Felton Award. Polo was the recipient of the Judith Felton Award. It was presented at the Annual awards banquet at the 2005 National Specialty, where truly fine Dobermans are recognized and celebrated.
I am sad to close the book on the story of Polo. The week before Hurricane Rita came ashore in East Texas, Polo finally went to the bridge. We all miss him, and are grateful to have known him. If you see Cindy Sidell, please give her a hug.
* * *
I stood by your bed last night,
I came to have a peep.
I could see that you were crying,
you found it hard to sleep.
I whined to you so softly
as you brushed away a tear,
"It's me, I haven't left you,
I'm well, I'm fine, I'm here."
I was close to you at breakfast,
I watched you pour the tea.
You were thinking of the many times
your hands reached down to me.
I was with you at the shops today,
your arms were getting sore.
I longed to take your parcels,
I wished I could do more.
I was with you at my grave today,
you tend it with such care.
I want to reassure you
that I'm not lying there.
I walked with you towards the house,
as you fumbled for your key.
I gently put my paw on you,
I smiled and said, "It's me."
You looked so very tired,
and sank into a chair.
I tried so hard to let you know,
that I was standing there.
It's possible for me to be
so near you everyday.
To say to you with certainty,
"I never went away."
You sat there very quietly,
then smiled, I think you knew...
In the stillness of that evening,
I was very close to you.
The day is over now ...
I smile and watch you yawning,
And say, "Goodnight, God bless,
I'll see you in the morning."
And when the time is right for you
to cross the brief divide,
I'll rush across to greet you
and we'll stand, side by side.
I have so many things to show you,
there is so much for you to see.
Be patient, live your journey out ...
then come Home to be with me.
author unknown
Rest in Peace
