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Chapter 18. Lammy's (now Izzy) Story and Update
When we fist saw the filthy, matted, blind poodle in a back ward cage at the New York City Animal Care and Control shelter two weeks before Christmas, I reeled back in shock and said to myself, "Patty, don't even think about it." The small poodle was old, blind and obviously miserable. Euthanasia would be a gift in this case. I nudged my assistant, Dave to move on with me. "Try not to look," I said, resignedly.
I did not note the forlorn pooch's ID number on the short list of dogs our organization, New Yorkers for Companion Animals, was able to "pull" from the heavily burdened animal control shelter which, too often is the final drop-off place for young, senior and neglected/abused animals no longer wanted by their guardians or strays picked up from various parts of the city.
Tried though I did, I could not nevertheless get the sad and pathetic poodle out of my mind. After all the neglect and/or abuse at human hands, should this little sad dog with his head down in the cage, not deserve something better than mere disposal from human culture? Was humane death the best and all we could offer now? What about life, love and care for this needy little dog? Was it still possible? I honestly did not know.
I later went back to take a second look at the filthy poodle with mats so thick and hard they felt like rocks and black holes to which his eyes had sunken into. I noted his indicated age as only three years. He came to the front of the cage with seeming joy that someone was interested in him! I petted his blackened head and that was "it" for me. I wrote down the number, 534796 on a small post-a-note and gave this to one of the NYCACC staffers working, Rescue.
I was told NYCACC would neuter and vaccinate him on Tuesday and I could pick him up on Wednesday.
When I later told Dave, my assistant of my decision he looked surprised, but at the same time gratified. Yes, for some animals we can try to create a Christmas!
I picked up the dog we would later name, "Lammy" from the NYCACC on a rainy Wednesday evening, a week or so before Christmas. A NYCACC volunteer was thrilled to see the little wretched, blind dog going out to rescue. "Oh, he's so nice," she said. "I am glad you are taking him!"
I called a car service and told the driver to take me to "Run Spot Run," an animal boarding/doggie day care, facility on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. When I exited the cab at 91st St and York Ave with the filthy, dilapidated dog, two people stared and recoiled in horror upon seeing him. "Is THAT your dog?" one woman asked me in disbelief.
I asked Carlos at Run Spot Run to arrange grooming for "Eddie" (a hastily made up name) at "A Cut Above" as soon as possible. He assured me it would be done the next day. I then signed the poodle in for grooming and boarding and took a picture of him before a dog handler took him away.
That night I sent out an urgent email to rescue lists seeking foster or placement for the poodle. Sara Whelen, Director of "Pets Alive," a no-kill shelter in upstate NY, was the only one to respond. "We will take him if you can't find anything, " she assured me. I felt grateful for Sara's offer as I know how overburdened all no-kill shelters are. Nevertheless, I quickly accepted the offer as I felt it unlikely we could find a quick home for a blind, "imperfect" poodle. I was running short on dog boarding funds and foster resources.
The next day, a young woman called offering to foster a dog. I told her about the blind poodle. Randi agreed to see him that night.
Upon seeing the now happy, cleaned up, shaven and beautifully groomed dog, Randi agreed to foster. The mini poodle now looked like a little white lamb, and we both agreed to call him, "Lammy." Meanwhile, Lammy stood on his back legs doing a little "poodle dance" in seeming recognition and appreciation that someone was taking him home! I emailed Sara later to tell her the happy news and thanked her once again for her kind offer.
Yesterday, I went to see Lammy in his new foster home and took some new pictures. Randi tells me he is "wonderful." "So cuddly and sweet. He sleeps in the bed. Follows me around and is almost getting the housebreaking down!"
Although Lammy cannot see anything, he uses his other acute senses to relate to the world around him. He is an extremely intelligent dog with an abundance of love and faith in people and life. Yes, Lammy bumps into things, but not to be deterred from his curiosity and joie de vivre, he just picks his head up and moves on. He slowly navigates his way up stairs and is even trying to figure out going down stairs. Randi lives in a fifth floor walkup and has to carry Lammy down stairs. But, she was thrilled to tell me, "He walked down the stoop steps today!"
How long will it take to find this once horribly neglected and now blind poodle a loving and permanent home? Who knows? People usually seek the "perfect" dog, and Lammy with his bumps and occasional stumbles, is not "perfect."
But, so far this Christmas has provided him with one miracle in the form of the many people who have come to Lammy's aid, rescue and cleanup. From the caring staffers at the NYCACC, to the facilities at Run Spot Run, to the talented groomers at "A Cut Above," to dedicated volunteers, like Dave Ambrosio, to the kind offer of Sara Whelen to take this handicapped dog, to the compassionate offer of Randi Robinson to foster-care him. Perhaps it is not too unrealistic to hope for the added miracle of a permanent, loving home?
I am taking a lesson from Lammy: If this blind and once-neglected dog can still love, and have faith in people, despite our past failings, so can I. We humans can learn a few things from dogs like Lammy. One of them being, that even in the darkness, there can be light.
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I just came upon, "Lammy's Story" on the web. You gave us a copy of this story when we adopted him, but I only found it on the web today. We are thinking about adopting another blind/special needs poodle (if we find one who needs us and if (and only if) we can determine that Izzy approves), which is how we came upon it. As you know, 2 days after you wrote this, we adopted the dog you called Lammy, who immediately became Izzy. He is a tenacious little dog, who has been through a lot, and he wanted a name that was just a little less cute than him. He's a guy, after all.
As soon as we saw him in that vet's office, we knew that he was supposed to come and live with us. How right we were. This little dog is not only the most beloved, spoiled, smart, funny, wonderful, wonderful, WONDERFUL dog you could ever hope to meet, he is also a fabulous inspiration to people all around our neighborhood. More on that later.
When Izzy came home with us on December 23rd, 2003:
He walked around the apartment and the neighborhood like a cat -- lifting one leg very high as if over tall grass, and then putting it down slowly and carefully, his shoulders were hunched and his tail down. Now he doesn't just trot down the street (although he is happy to do that) WE RUN. We have a stretch of flat Avenue that we know pretty well and we run FULL TILT for an entire block (or two, if I can keep up) -- just because we can. He has no hesitation.
He leads us. He loves it. He is the bravest little boy you could possibly imagine. He wants to know everything about everything and everyone. He sniffs his way around new places and walks fabulously on his leash. He always stays to the left (and will walk around us to get to the left side). At first we used our keys to let him know where we were, but we soon realized that he could hear our feet (even in sneakers) and now we know how not to run into each other (or anyone else). He responds to the smallest move of his leash, so we are really adept at avoiding collisions. He looks like a seeing dog. People are SHOCKED when they get close and realize that there is something just a little different about him. From a distance, looking at him get around, you would NEVER guess that he is blind.
He couldn't maneuver the four flights of stairs in our building. We trained him by sound. It didn't take long. He's a smartiepants. Now he *flies* down all four flights. We wanted to build his confidence and increase his sense of autonomy. He has no hesitation (in places he knows). He jumps off and on the bed, the couch, our laps, into and out of the bath. In the living room, he uses the edge of the carpet to gauge where he is. We use a click of the fingers to reorient him if he gets turned around.
He wouldn't eat dry food. It seems like a small thing, but we wanted to make sure that he had a balanced diet. We trained him by hand (wetting little pieces so that he could smell that they were yummy and worth the extra effort, then kneeling by his bowl and feeding him by hand until he got the hang of it). It took a while, but now he eats a combination of wet and dry food (along with his doggie cookies, rawhide, doggie steaks (as a treat), and of course his Greenies). Don't worry. It sounds like a lot, but he only eats what he wants and leaves the rest until later (and we are careful not to upset his tummy). And if he doesn't like it, he won't eat it. End of story. Smart dog!
He wasn't housebroken. Now he is. We think he *likes* not stepping in his own urine. He went from being very, very dirty (based on your pictures), to being very, very clean. We need to wipe the area around where his eyes once were a couple of times a day, because they have a tendency to gather goop. He is so patient with us. Such a good, good boy. All it takes is a terry cloth, a little warm water, a gentle touch, and some soothing words. Nothing could be simpler.
He didn't sleep through the night (and he seemed to be crying a lot in his sleep). Now he burrows under the sheets (yes, he's made his claim to our bed, now HIS bed, which we are permitted to share), even in this weather, and finds someone to cuddle up to. He can go a full 8-10 hours without going out if he really needs to. When he first came home (and we were potty training him), we needed to take him out every 4 hours or so. We were two very sleep deprived gals! Now we take him out 4 times a day -- because he likes it and we like it and it seems to do him just fine. If he needs to go out, he lets us know. If he just wants to play, he has a different way of waking us up. He's not shy.
He didn't know any commands (at least, not as far as we could tell). Now he knows a tone (and learns more every week). He stops at the traffic light when we tell him to "stay". He "sits" to have his leash put on. He has never, not once, eaten off anyone's plate (even though he's had the chance -- and drools whenever anyone eats peanut butter) and he doesn't beg (once he's been told no). He knows his name, our names, when to come, when to go, when to stand, when to bark, when to stop, how to fetch, the name of at least 5 of his toys (hedgehog, catfish, bunny, snake, fish), and loads more commands, as well as a surprising number of other non-command related sentences. "Izzy, do you want a Greenie?" is usually met with delight (and a jump off the couch/trot to the kitchen where his treats are stored). "Hey, Izzy. Do you want to go out?" leads to a lot of squiggly tail-wagging and a happy boy by the front door. We can't ask this question until we are almost ready to go, though, or it leads to irritated "Hurry up!" barks from our darling, darling boy. He has taught us plenty of commands, too. He is a really excellent communicator. One of the best we have ever met. He is straightforward, honest, unambiguous, and he knows what he wants. He doesn't give up until he is sure we understand. If it ends in a "no" he will accept it AS LONG AS HE IS SURE WE UNDERSTAND.
We are not sure if he really knew what toys were about. He does now. All of his toys make sounds when you bite them or pull them or throw them. He loves to wrestle for them. He loves to fetch (and we have a loooooooooooooong hallway, so we can do plenty of that). He prefers that they be soft (and we have made sure he has a wide selection of textures and squeakers/cracklers/crunchers). We are teaching him "left" and "right" as well as "go" and "come back" so that he can find things faster (and by the sound of our voices as well as his own sense of smell). He just loves any and all play time.
We are not sure that he had ever been for a walk in a park. We live half a block from Prospect Park. Man does he love that grass! On his birthday (which we took to be six months after we brought him home--seeing as you told us he was about two and a half), we went for the longest, happiest, "2 gals and one puppy" walk in the universe. There is such a lot to smell and check out and learn. We go there as often as we can. It takes him much longer to get around (because it is not as flat as the sidewalk), but he always picks up the pace when we turn left at the end of the block, instead of right.
We are not sure that he had ever been around other dogs. He was truly afraid of almost all of them when he first came home. As he gained confidence (inside the apartment), he got more aggressive with other dogs outside. Of course, he has no sense of how little he is (in relation to that interesting dog he hears coming his way), so he would bark, and bark, and bark. Sometimes it was an invitation to play (lots of tail wagging), but sometimes it was a warning/call to rumble. For a while he really acted out. All other dogs were on his attack list (in the same way that pigeons still are). [Yes, this little blind dog chases pigeons (on his leash, of course). I always tell him that he would have gotten them if only I had let him -- and who knows, maybe he would?] Getting him to understand that he is safe and can make canine friends has probably taken us the longest, but with the help of people in the neighborhood -- people who are willing to let him say hi (to their mellow/friendly/well-trained dog) and let them orient themselves (with reassurances from us as necessary) -- he has come a long way. He has even made a couple of doggie friends. Of course, the dog next door (four times Izzy's size) is terrified of him, but that's okay. They aren't ever going to hang out together. As long as he has a choice about his behaviour, we are happy with a little acting out now and again. Sometimes he has good reason to be afraid/aggressive; we just want to teach him how to differentiate the "right" from the "wrong" time.
He is still afraid of some people. We are not sure that there is much we can do about this. Someone (or more than one) neglected and/or abused him horribly. There is no doubt that at least one of those people was male. It takes him longer to make friends with men. He will (if he can be assured that they are kind) eventually relax/get friendly, but he will try to make friends with almost all children (at least pre-adolescent children, regardless of their gender) and almost all women as soon as he meets them. We have met more people in our neighborhood in the last six and a half months than we had in the entire 10 years before Izzy came into our lives. People (loads of people) know him by name; want to stop us and pet him/let him lick them/say hello. He has lots and lots of people friends. We don't know all their names. He knows some of them by smell. We can tell by his tail. Wherever he goes, he lights people up. Every day; everywhere.
He will never see. We took him to see a veterinary ophthalmologist (to make sure that he wasn't in any pain). You had taken him to see your fabulous vet and we had taken him to see ours (as soon as we got him home), but we decided to go to see a specialist to make sure we knew what's what. It turns out that Izzy once had sight. When he was very, very little, she told us, he got an infection. He was terribly neglected and the infection spread until his eyeballs were perforated (yes, that's right, someone left our darling Izzy until he had HOLES IN HIS EYES). The eyes tried to heal the holes themselves, but in doing so, pulled the tissue down and in, collapsing the eyeballs and allowing them to atrophy in the sockets. The third eyelid closed over the now useless eyeballs/mass of scarred tissue that once were eyeballs, which is what makes him look as if he has "red" eyes. (Even though they are flat -- people still call them his eyes). The veterinary ophthalmologist could tell that the blindness wasn't i) congenital or ii) something someone did to him, by the way the tissue (in the back of the sockets, behind then eyelids) were scarred. She told us that the way eyebuds develop (or rather don't develop) when the problem is congenital look entirely different, as do scars from a wound. He is in no pain. The scars are old enough that she is sure that this happened when he was *very* young (which probably explains why he is so well adapted). One of his eyelids has a small fold in it, because of the volume/pattern of scar tissue behind the eyelid, so he may eventually need surgery, but for now (with us keeping it nice and clean) he is fine just as he is. That about sums him up -- HE IS FINE THE WAY HE IS.
He is about the best-tempered dog you could ever hope to meet. It isn't just that he is smart and funny and gorgeous, but also that he has some kind of resilience (that shines through everything that he does) that you can only admire. We are proud beyond our ability to describe pride. He is a wonder dog. When people in the neighborhood first realize that he is blind, they "feel sorry" for him, but if they spend any time at all around him that soon fades (as they fall for his charms). Really. It happens every time. There is just nothing to feel sorry about. He is a whole dog, leading a whole life. He gives and gets love every single day. We feeling unendingly grateful that he is in our lives.
If you wish to share Izzy's story (so very different from his former life) with anyone else who might be in two minds about adopting a "special needs" dog, please do. We could not be any happier. He is a source of unending joy to us (and, we hope, we to him). And in case it is not clear from this message...
WE LOVE HIM. We love him, we love him, we love him.
Thank you for taking that chance. May many other people do the same.
All the best,
Kate & Ginger