Fox Terrier Rescue
FROM NEGLECT AND MALTREATMENT
Cookie - the story of her journey to a new name and a loving family.
Who would have thought that a simple email message could begin a sequence of events that would have such life-changing outcome for my wife and I, and a pathetic little waif of a wirehair fox terrier named Cookie?
About seven years ago, we adopted a 2-year-old wire fox terrier male through the Denver terrier rescue league and Bonnie Guzman. He developed in to the love of our lives. Last summer, he died in our arms of what was later determined to be a brain tumor. We felt a void in our lives ever since and we were ready to bring another WFT into our home.
We contacted Bonnie and every week or so she would send us an email advising us of available dogs. We pursued the leads only to find that for one reason or another it would not work out. Frustrating as it was, knowing that the ones we were interested in had already been adopted, left us with a certain calm and glad acceptance.
Then Bonnie sent us an email telling us about a WFT named "Cookie" who was available through the Humane Society in Roswell, New Mexico. I called them and they referred me to their website.
I asked about her history. No specific information was available. I learned that in the small rural communities surrounding Roswell, the funds for an animal shelter, and in most cases, the funds for an animal control officer were not available. Standard practice in small communities is a deputy sheriff often takes a stray dog to a local veterinarian. If not claimed in 3 days, the animal is put down. Thank God there are individuals who take matters into their own hands and intervene to save dog lives. That was the case with Cookie. Someone had taken her to Roswell Humane in hopes that she could be placed for adoption.
This is where the complications began. Because Cookie had not been adopted while in Roswell Humane, she and several other dogs were due to be transported to the Humane Society in Englewood, Colorado. Because the drive to Roswell takes about 4.5 hours from our home in Trinidad, Colorado I called both Roswell Humane and Englewood Humane to ask that the person transporting these dogs stop, along the I-25 corridor, at the truck stop at exit 11, and call me. I promised that I could be there in less than three minutes, I offered to help exercise the dogs in the middle of their 550-mile trip, and I offered to buy lunch for the person doing the transporting. I indicated that I wanted to save a very long drive, meet Cookie, and if it worked, I would follow through with a normal adoption process. Roswell thought this was a good idea but the director at Englewood Humane would not even talk with me by telephone. No one at Englewood Humane would make a commitment to hold her for me.
All that I could ascertain was the transportation to Englewood was imminent but no one was able to give me a firm date. My wife and I would have preferred to meet Cookie together but she had an oncology appointment in Denver the next day and would be driving 230 miles north. It was clear I needed to get Englewood Humane out of the equation and I started to make plans to meet this little girl. So I jumped into my jeep and headed for Roswell, 320 miles south. As it turned out, this was a trip I would never forget. High on the list of memorable experiences was learning that New Mexico takes their speed limits on rural highways very seriously. Despite a 10 minute "chat" with a Highway Patrolman, I arrived at Roswell Humane about 20 minutes before the shelter was to close for lunch. I announced that I was the guy from Colorado who wanted to see Cookie. A few minutes passed before she was carried out on a noose lead and placed on the ground.
What a pathetic little waif. Her eyes were wide with fear. Her ears were back in total submission and her stance was one of flight or fight. Her tail was pulled tightly between her legs. She had been shaved right down to the skin. Her nipples were protruded and her belly was hanging down in a big flap due to a false pregnancy. She had been spayed recently and her incision was still bright red and the stitches had just been removed. I slowly offered her my hand to sniff and she backed toward her handler and leaned into him. I gently rubbed her chest, then her neck, and then her back being careful not to pat her on her head, as I know that can be very threatening to a dog. She seemed to relax a bit.
I took the leash from the handler and led her over to a chair and sat down. No longer appearing so tall and big and talking very softly, she responded to me with a curious sniff, and then she licked my hand. I said these words: "I want to adopt this dog!" With less than the 15 minutes remaining before the shelter closed, I completed the adoption application and paid the adoption fee. We walked her out to the Jeep and lifted her into cargo compartment. Cookie's new life had begun.
I had the rear seats folded down, enlarging the cargo area. In it I had placed an airline kennel, a folded soft blanket, a bowl of fresh water, a bowl of dog food, and a Buckster - my 10-month-old Parson Russell terrier. The two dogs had an introductory sniff and Cookie crawled into the crate. Somewhere along the 320-mile return trip, Cookie curled up on the blanket and Bucky snuggled up next to her, both dogs traveled for several hours sound asleep.
Once home, I helped Cookie out of the car and into our fenced in back yard. Bucky became a ball of frenetic energy after his 640-mile, all day drive but Cookie was very tentative as she very slowly explored this new space. After about an hour, she seemed a little more relaxed but she refused to cross the threshold of the door when I invited both dogs inside. I helped her inside of the house and she immediately spotted the crate that I had brought in from the jeep, and she made straight for it and curled up inside.
The crate door was left open and several hours later, Cookie stepped out. I led her to a bowl of fresh water and dog food. She ate a little and drank a little and then returned to the crate. Not wanting to rush anything, I just left her alone. Bucky would stop by the crate every few minutes, sniff and then walk away. Over the remainder of the evening, she would venture out of the crate for a few minutes and explore only to return to the crate. Her first night in her new home passed uneventfully.
The next morning, I let both dogs outside. Bucky wanted to play and he kept trying to engage her. It took a little while but before long Bucky would run into her, shoulder to shoulder, and she would respond with a growl and she would chase him for a few steps. Awhile later, the Buckster was running full speed with Cookie chasing close behind. Then, it was Cookie at full speed with Bucky trying to catch her. When I invited both dogs back inside, both ran in and Cookie, now realizing she was in the house, suddenly stopped and flattened as if preparing for a beating. This was one of the saddest things I have ever seen. I immediately dropped to my knees and tried to soothe her and reassure her that everything was all right.
It was hard waiting for my wife Jacqueline to come home from Denver. When she walked through the door and Cookie followed Bucky into the room, their eyes met. It was love at first sight. Bucky was his usual boing-boing self and Cookie took her cue from his reaction. It was the first time I saw Cookie being excited and animated. After a few hours of getting acquainted with Jacqueline, the relationship encountered a small bump in the road. Heavy with the fragrance I might describe as Au de Kennel, it was time for a Cookie bath. Cookie did not like that part and it took both of us to manage it. She did, however, seem to enjoy the towel rubdown and especially liked the warm blow dryer. She really, really liked watching Bucky being subjected to the same process.
The next day, Cookie met our vet. She had a mild case of kennel cough and it was time for the next in the series of vaccinations. Roswell Humane had given me the list of immunizations already administered so it was clear what she still needed. After a through exam, shots, a prescription for antibiotics, and a microchip identification implant, we returned home. She welcomed being let into the yard with Bucky and over the span of the next few days, her fear of coming into the house dissipated.
These days will be remembered as very gratifying. Watching this little waif recover from her early life and develop into what we as terrier lovers admire in this feisty breed of dogs. We found that the name Cookie and Bucky sounded too much alike, and it was causing confusion for both dogs, so we renamed her Google. An appropriate name because she is now an energetic little search engine. Also, in the British game of cricket, there is a pitch called a Google but it is pronounced Goo-glee. It is a pitch known as hard to catch and harder to hit. Now when we call her, we call out "Goo Goo Google" in a singsong tone and she just wiggles and jumps in happy anticipation at the sound. If it is possible for dogs to laugh, I think she is laughing at the sound of her new name.
Now she follows me everywhere I go. And, if I get anywhere near the bedroom, she jumps on the bed and rolls over waiting for a tummy rub. Bucky, not to be left out, joins her and it becomes a family game. I can't help but giggle watching her on her back, wiggling and kicking her feet into the air and then springing up, spinning around, and then back on her back for another round. It is the perfect picture of canine happiness.
If not napping or playing, Bucky sits on the backrest of a large overstuffed chair looking out of our large picture window. Google sits on the seat cushion of the same chair with her head on the armrest. They are now our early warning system for the approach of anything unusual. My heart goes out to poor Google for what she must have endured. I had no idea that she would be so sensitive to loud voices. One morning, I yelled at Bucky to hush when he was barking at some imaginary threat. When I looked at Google, she had flattened on the carpet, tail between her legs, clearly frightened and awaiting some punishment. Whenever I see that reaction, and thankfully it is happening less and less, I take the time to gently pet Google and reassure her with soothing talk.
When bedtime comes, Bucky wants to be in the exact middle of our king size bed. Google prefers to snuggle up on an overstuffed chair in the bedroom. When one wakes up, the other is up shortly thereafter. Bucky likes to play catch and fetch but Google just watches. When we throw a toy, Google will sometimes tag along with Bucky but she is more content to just get a stuffed toy and lay down with it. If Bucky tries to take away her selection, there is a dog-to-dog tug-o-war. Despite the growling on both sides, both tails are wiggling at top speed. Now, when Bucky gets tired and lies down, Google will go select a toy and go over to him, stick the toy in his face, and tease him with it.
Her coat is growing back and already I am looking forward to grooming her when she has furnishings. With her legs "posted" she is going to be beautiful. Her eyelashes are growing back and they are blond. To see those big, loving, brown eyes looking through those long blond eyelashes, I now refer to her as "you little flirt." She has a spot on her muzzle that is without pigment. Our vet advised that area will be sun sensitive and he recommended coloring it in with a permanent black laundry marker. He indicated that repeated applications would eventually permanently stain the skin and provide the same level of sun protection, as would normal skin pigmentation. It appears to be working and Google seems to like having make-up applied.
Carol from Roswell Humane, called us to inquire about how Cookie was doing. She liked the new name and was glad to hear the adjustment was going so well. Again, we asked if she had any history on her previous life. To our surprise, she found the telephone number of the woman who brought her into the Roswell shelter. We immediately called her and learned the terrible details of her previous life.
Cookie's prior owners found her too much to handle. They got a new, less active pup of a different breed. From that point forward, they confined Cookie outside 24 hours a day. They gave her food and water but that was all. It was a life of almost total neglect. Although I cannot confirm it, judging by her fearful reactions, physical abuse was probably frequent. At that point, her coat was all matted. She was badly infested with fleas. She had sores under some of the mats and irritated skin everywhere else. That is why she had to be shaved right down to the skin.
Cookie does not live there any more.
About the author. Larry Sinnett retired from the Denver Department of Human Services as a child protection social work administrator. His wife, Jacqueline, also a retired social work administrator, was the former Program Director of the State of Colorado Foster Care Program for abused and neglected children. They now live in a beautiful home, on two of acres of land, on the border of Trinidad Lake State Park. Google and her baby brother, Bucky nap on a redwood deck, in the sun, with a spectacular view of the Sangre de Cristo Mountain Range, Spanish Peaks, and Trinidad Lake, unless of course, they are looking out of the front windshield of their motor home.
Thanks to Bonnie Guzman for the energy to start this process and Janis Decker for moral support. Thanks to Carol at Roswell Humane for running interference for me, and Cassie for sending me the picture of Cookie in the Shelter. And special thanks to a lady named Moni for getting Cookie out of her bad situation and into Roswell Humane. God bless you all.
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