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Chapter 46. The Rescue of Tina – All Things of Heaven to Me.
One day when I was at CACC picking up cats, I noticed an unusually beautiful dog in one of the adoption cages.
The dog was on the small side; around 20lbs or so and was indicated to be 5-years-old. She had the biggest, widest, doggie smile on her face! A happy, cheerful dog, considering she came in as a “stray” and was sitting in the pound. The dog seemed not to be aware of her desperate circumstances. She had fluffy, longish hair and was a beautiful gold and white color. The dog was posted as a “Corgi mix,” but her face and fur looked more Pomeranian or Spitz. “Wow, what a beauty!” I said to Cindy, the CACC rescue coordinator. “I’ m sure she will be adopted in a snap!”
Nevertheless, I realized that no matter how nice or beautiful the cat or dog, no animal was guaranteed to be adopted at the pound. The euthanasia rate was 78%.
“Just in case that dog fails to get adopted, I’d like to put a memo on her,” I told Cindy. “You sure about that, Patty?” Cindy asked. “Do you have fosters for dogs?” “Not really, Cindy. But, should that dog get into trouble, I will figure something out.”
Over the next couple of weeks, I returned to CACC several times to pull more cats. Each time I noticed the beautiful Corgi/Spitz/Pom dog still smiling in her cage. I couldn’t believe that no one had fallen captive to the petite dog’s beauty, charm and endearing personality! “God, no one has adopted that dog, yet?” I asked Cindy. “Not yet, “ Cindy answered disappointingly. “ I am surprised too. She is an extremely nice dog.” “Well, don’t forget to call me if worse comes to worse,” I reminded Cindy.
Two days later, the call came from Cindy. “You know that little Corgi mix dog you like?” Cindy asked. “She’s got kennel cough and is slated to go down tonight. You need to get here right away.”
“I’m jumping in a cab and will be there in ten minutes,” I answered without hesitation.
Within an hour I left CACC with the beautiful little Corgi mix who was now sneezing heavily and had green snot coming out of her nose. That did not stop her however, from pulling me up the block with all the force of a Siberian Husky! “Wow, you are quite the strong one for your size!” I complained aloud. “Slow down, girl! We’re not in the Iditotrod!”
Halfway up the block on 110th Street, I named the spunky little dog, “Tina.” There was no particular association or reason for the name, “Tina.” It just seemed to fit the pretty little redheaded pooch.
I had no foster of course for Tina, and no vet would board a sick dog with kennel cough. I had to bring her to my apartment. We walked home together. Despite her cough, Tina had no problem walking (or, actually running) the twenty blocks to my house.
I, of course had no idea how my other dog, Fawn would react to the new foster. She normally didn’t like female dogs. Nor, did I have any idea how this new dog would react to my dog or the cats in my home. My only thought was that I could not let the little beauty go down.
Surprisingly though, the sweet and charming personality of Tina represented no threat to Fawn and my older dog accepted the younger one right away. Nor did Tina chase or harass the cats. All my “senses” about the pretty little fluff thing turned out to be accurate. Tina just wanted to eat, go for walks (or runs, really) and snuggle next to me.
But, if I thought adoption of the beautiful little Pom mix was going to be easy, I had another guess coming. The kennel cough Tina came out of the pound with took weeks to treat and for her to finally recover from. Additionally, Tina was not housebroken and that too, required about a month to solve. Though, charming, beautiful, sweet and fun, Tina was not the brightest bulb in the Universe. It took her time to learn commands and that walks were not only for pulling her person down the block, but actually had a purpose. Whenever I said, “sit” to Tina, she jumped. When I said, “heel,” she pulled. When I said “come,” Tina ran in the opposite direction. There seemingly was a stubborn streak in the otherwise endearing dog. Either that, or Tina suffered from the canine version of “Attention Deficit Disorder.” Tina just wasn’t much for paying attention to training or commands.
After Tina’s recovery from Kennel Cough, I had her spayed and began to advertise and show her for adoption. A few people came to see her, but no one offered to adopt Tina. I felt annoyed and personally slighted. HOW COULD ANYONE REJECT THIS BEAUTIFUL SWEETHEART OF A DOG?
Around this time, Fawn’s arthritis began to go the same way as Coby’s whom I had lost a couple of years before. Once again I was facing the situation of an older, bigger dog who was having increasing difficulty walking and could no longer navigate the stairs of my building. I walked Tina and Fawn separately as Tina required longer and faster walks. Fawn could not keep up with her.
Dr. Peterson prescribed medications and gave Cortisone shots to try and alleviate some of Fawn’s pain. But, after some months, it was clear that the medications were no longer working. Once again, I had to face the painful day of having to have my loyal canine companion of almost 13 years put down. Dr. Peterson was kind and gentle. He assured me I was doing the right thing as nothing more could be done to lessen Fawn’s pain. Fighting back tears, I gently patted Fawn as Dr. Peterson injected her and she went to sleep for the last time.
Loss and despair enveloped me, when finally returning home without Fawn. But, as soon as I walked in the door, Tina ran up to me, tail wagging and wide smile on her face.
She reminded me that I still had a loving dog to take care of. “Come on, Tina,” I whispered through falling tears, while grabbing the leash. “Let’s go out.”
Tina didn’t know it then, but it was in that moment, she was officially adopted.
No one is going to get you now, I said silently in my mind and heart. You and I are a team.
The next day I removed Tina from all advertisements. The public had its chance for this beautiful little dog and now the chance was gone as Tina was my one consolation to the loss around me.
“You were too good for them anyway,” I said to Tina.
Eight years later Tina is still with me and at my feet as I type the story about her. She still pulls on the leash, still jumps when I say “sit” and still runs in the opposite direction when I say, “come.”
Who said dogs have to be all things to all people?
She’s just Tina and she is all things of heaven to me.