The Story of a Rescue
In August of 1997,a couple answered an add in a local paper in a small town in Mississippi. They were looking for an exotic bird. They purchased the bird, yet within a few weeks, it died. They called the sellers of the bird to report the death and were offered another bird. They decided to drive out to the country home of these people. While there, they noticed two large dogs in very bad shape. The man asked these people what was wrong with the dogs. He replied, "I don't want them, I quit feeding them in May. Even tried to shoot em, but wasn't successful. They won't last much longer. Keep 'em staked out in the field most of the time."
Obviously shaken, the purchaser of the exotic bird left immediately. He had a friend in New Orleans that was very active in Dog rescue....and was President of the local chapter of the Great Dane Club. He called "his friend" Cindy and reported the incident. Cindy gathered all the information. She called the owner of the dogs. It was apparent in the first few minutes of the conversation that these dogs were doomed. Cindy asked if she could come get them. The owner said, " We are leaving on vacation in 2 days..I hope they are dead when we get back."
Cindy enlisted the help of a friend, Adrian, and set off for Mississippi the next morning. They found the house out in the country. There were Llamas, and monkeys, and other exotic animals. Laying out in the grass were the two dogs. One slowly got up and approached. He was black and one eye was disfigured from a small caliber gunshot wound. The other one was Black and White, a "Boston". He did not rise at all. He had a large open wound in the top of his head, again, apparently from a small caliber gun. The Black one timidly greeted the two women.
The Boston could barely lift his head. Cindy and her friend knocked on the door of the house. There was no answer. They pushed the door a bit and it opened. The interior of the house was in shambles. Plugged plumbing, feces covered clothes, food left out. The smell was overwhelming. Cindy and Adrian closed the door and turned their attention to the two dogs. The Boston was near death. He had to be stretchered to the van. The Black willingly followed. Neither one looked back as they left the house in the country. Cindy took the two dogs immediately to her vet upon her arrival back in New Orleans. She was told that the Boston was approximately 12 hours from death. He was so infested with worms, that he literally was being sucked alive from the inside out. His gunshot wound was cleaned and dressed. There seemed to be no brain penetration....just a hole in his skull. The Black one was in a little better shape. His blind eye was intact and would not have to be removed. Both were treated for worms. The vet felt any thing more would be much to stressful for them. The Black One weighed about 90 pounds...The Boston, about 85. Their ages were estimated to be approximately one to one and a half years old. Adrian agreed to foster the two dogs "for a little while". She lived in an apartment and dogs were not allowed. Cindy posted an urgent request to the Great Dane Mailing List for a home for these boys. My husband and I had been wanting to find a friend for our Black Dane, Mannie. We had Mannie since March. Mannie was all gentleman. He had been obedience trained, never missed a vaccination, a heartworm pill, or a meal.
We read Cindy's post. She outlined some of the horror the boys had lived through. The story of the two from Mississippi kept haunting me. We decided we could and would take one of them. Our initial contact with Cindy went well. She told us more details. She then asked if we could take both of them. They had kept each other alive, she explained. If they were separated now, they surely would suffer even more. We decided that YES...it would be even more cruelty to separate them. We would take both of them. A plan was made for Cindy to deliver them to our house near Cameron, Louisiana in one week. That was a crazy week. We planned, rearranged our house to accommodate two more babies, we fretted, we bought dog food.....and we stayed in close contact with Cindy. The day finally arrived. I stood in the street looking for the big blue van. Finally we saw it...and two distinctively Dane heads peeking at us through the back windows as the van drove into the driveway. It was love at first sight. "DaBoyz" were home. The Boston we named Neptune for the god of the Sea, the Black one, we named Thor, the god of Thunder. Appropriate and strong names, we thought, for two survivors living at the beach. The following days showed just how weak they were. Neptune couldn't walk very far without his hind end collapsing; his gums were ghostly white. Thor was so frightened and traumatized, he would cower whenever someone would approach him. Neither could run or play. They could not be out of each others sight. They literally clung to each other. Neptune's coat looked like it had been attacked by moths. He had bumps all over him, and large patches of missing hair. Thor was in the same condition, though less severe, or perhaps less noticeable, because he has no white on him.
Time has flown by since we rescued Daboyz. Mannie developed quite a dislike for Neptune. We found Neppy a wonderful home in Houston... He now lives with Tracey... and the scamp that ate my couch, and drank 4 quarts of cooking oil, has become the "poster boy" for obedience! We are so delighted with him and especially his new home....and he is now known as MONTY... quite appropriately ...I might add..
"THE FULL MONTY"............................"THE THOR BOY"