Sometimes You Just Don't Know Who's Dog You Just Rescued

Great Dog Story and well worth the reading!!!!!

They told me the big black Lab's name was Reggie
as I looked at him lying in his pen. the shelter was
clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly.
I'd only been in the area for six months, but everywhere
I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open.
Everyone waves when you pass them on the
street.

But something was still missing as I attempted to
settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog
couldn't hurt. Give me someone to talk to.
And I had just seen Reggie's advertisement on the local
news. The shelter said they had received numerous
calls right after, but they said the people who had come
down to see him just didn't look like "Lab
people," whatever that meant. They must've
thought I did.

But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me
in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis
balls, his dishes, and a sealed letter from his previous
owner. See, Reggie and I didn't really hit it off
when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is
how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his
new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to
adjust, too. Maybe we were too much alike.

For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis
balls - he wouldn't go anywhere without two stuffed in
his mouth) got tossed in with all of my other unpacked
boxes. I guess I didn't really think he'd need
all his old stuff, that I'd get him new things once he
settled in. but it became pretty clear pretty soon
that he wasn't going to.

I tried the normal commands the shelter told me he
knew, ones like "sit" and "stay" and
"come" and "heel," and he'd follow
them - when he felt like it. He never really seemed to
listen when I called his name - sure, he'd look in my
direction after the fourth of fifth time I said it, but then
he'd just go back to doing whatever. When I'd
ask again, you could almost see him sigh and then grudgingly
obey.

This just wasn't going to work. He chewed a
couple shoes and some unpacked boxes. I was a little
too stern with him and he resented it, I could tell.
The friction got so bad that I couldn't wait for the two
weeks to be up, and when it was, I was in full-on search
mode for my cellphone amid all of my unpacked stuff. I
remembered leaving it on the stack of boxes for the guest
room, but I also mumbled, rather cynically, that the
"damn dog probably hid it on me."

Finally I found it, but before I could punch up the
shelter's number, I also found his pad and other toys
from the shelter. I tossed the pad in Reggie's
direction and he snuffed it and wagged, some of the most
enthusiasm I'd seen since bringing him home. But
then I called, "Hey, Reggie, you like that? Come
here and I'll give you a treat." Instead, he
sort of glanced in my direction - maybe "glared"
is more accurate - and then gave a discontented sigh and
flopped down. With his back to me.

Well, that's not going to do it either, I
thought. And I punched the shelter phone number.

But I hung up when I saw the sealed envelope. I
had completely forgotten about that, too. "Okay,
Reggie," I said out loud, "let's see if
your previous owner has any advice".... .....



____________ _________ _________ _________



To
Whoever Gets My Dog:
Well, I can't say that I'm
happy you're reading this, a letter I told the shelter
could only be opened by Reggie's new owner.
I'm not even happy writing it. If you're
reading this, it means I just got back from my last car ride
with my Lab after dropping him off at the shelter. He
knew something was different. I have packed up his pad
and toys before and set them by the back door before a trip,
but this time... it's like he knew something was
wrong. And something is wrong... which is why I have
to go to try to make it right.

So let me tell you about my Lab in
the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with
you.

First, he loves tennis balls.
the more the merrier. Sometimes I think he's part
squirrel, the way he hordes them. He usually always
has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in
there. Hasn't done it yet. Doesn't
matter where you throw them, he'll bound after it, so be
careful - really don't do it by any roads. I made
that mistake once, and it almost cost him
dearly.

Next, commands. Maybe the
shelter staff already told you, but I'll go over them
again: Reggie knows the obvious ones -
"sit," "stay," "come,"
"heel." He knows hand signals:
"back" to turn around and go back when you put
your hand straight up; and "over" if you put your
hand out right or left. "Shake" for shaking
water off, and "paw" for a high-five. He
does "down" when he feels like lying down - I bet
you could work on that with him some more. He knows
"ball" and "food" and "bone"
and "treat" like nobody's
business.

I trained Reggie with small food
treats. Nothing opens his ears like little pieces of
hot dog.

Feeding schedule: twice a
day, once about seven in the morning, and again at six in
the evening. Regular store-bought stuff; the shelter
has the brand.

He's up on his shots.
Call the clinic on 9th Street and update his info with
yours; they'll make sure to send you reminders for when
he's due. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the
vet. Good luck getting him in the car - I don't
know how he knows when it's time to go to the vet, but
he knows.

Finally, give him some time.
I've never been married, so it's only been Reggie
and me for his whole life. He's gone everywhere
with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if
you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he
doesn't bark or complain. He just loves to be
around people, and me most especially.

Which means that this transition is
going to be hard, with him going to live with someone
new.

And that's why I need to share
one more bit of info with you....

His name's not
Reggie.

I don't know what made me do
it, but when I dropped him off at the shelter, I told them
his name was Reggie. He's a smart dog, he'll
get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no
doubt. but I just couldn't bear to give them his
real name. For me to do that, it seemed so final, that
handing him over to the shelter was as good as me admitting
that I'd never see him again. And if I end up
coming back, getting him, and tearing up this letter, it
means everything's fine. But if someone else is
reading it, well... well it means that his new owner should
know his real name. It'll help you bond with
him. Who knows, maybe you'll even notice a change
in his demeanor if he's been giving you
problems.

His real name is Tank.

Because that is what I
drive.

Again, if you're reading this
and you're from the area, maybe my name has been on the
news. I told the shelter that they couldn't make
"Reggie" available for adoption until they
received word from my company commander. See, my
parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could've
left Tank with... and it was my only real request of the
Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone
call the shelter... in the "event"... to tell
them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily,
my colonel is a dog guy, too, and he knew where my platoon
was headed. He said he'd do it
personally. And if you're reading this, then
he made good on his word.

Well, this letter is getting to
downright depressing, even though, frankly, I'm just
writing it for my dog. I couldn't imagine if I was
writing it for a wife and kids and family. but still,
Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as
long as the Army has been my family.

And now I hope and pray that you
make him part of your family and that he will adjust and
come to love you the same way he loved me.

That unconditional love from a dog
is what I took with me to Iraq as an inspiration to do
something selfless, to protect innocent people from those
who would do terrible things... and to keep those terrible
people from coming over here. If I had to give up Tank
in order to do it, I am glad to have done so. He was
my example of service and of love. I hope I honored
him by my service to my country and comrades.

All right, that's enough.
I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at
the shelter. I don't think I'll say another
good-bye to Tank, though. I cried too much the first
time. Maybe I'll peek in on him and see if he
finally got that third tennis ball in his
mouth.

Good luck with Tank. Give him
a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight - every
night - from me

Thank you, Paul
Mallory

____________ _________ _________ _______


I folded
the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure I
had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even
new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few
months ago and posthumously earning the Silver Star when he
gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at
half-mast all summer.

I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on
my knees, staring at the dog.

"Hey, Tank," I said quietly.

The dog's head whipped up, his ears cocked and his
eyes bright.

"C'mere boy."

He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on
the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head
tilted, searching for the name he hadn't heard in
months.

"Tank," I whispered.

His tail swished.

I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each
time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture
relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood
him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried
my face into his scruff and hugged him.

"It's me now, Tank, just you and me.
Your old pal gave you to me." Tank reached up and
licked my cheek. "So whatdaya say we play some
ball? His ears perked again.
"Yeah? Ball? You like that?
Ball?" Tank tore from my hands and
disappeared in the next room.

And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in
his mouth.


I received this in an e-mail today and all I could do was cry after reading this story.It helps bring life into who that dog was when you choose to adopt a dog. So have a heart and go adopt a dog today....

Has The RSPCA Gone Too Far On Killing Ten Dogs

The RSPCA wants to kill ten German Shepherds with a bolt gun that were left homeless when the owner died. Can you imagine that the RSPACA with stands for The Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals would even think of shooting a dog with one of these? Something is wrong with this picture, you are suppose to help save animals not shoot them.

Jayne Shenstone from the German Shepherd Dog Rescue said: These were somebody's pets. There were ten of them. I find it hard to believe that all ten of them were non-rehomable, and that their skin conditions could not be treated. They needed to be put into rescue and assessed, not shot in the head with a slaughterer's weapon. No one I know was approached to re-home these dogs.

I think that the eight so called animal lovers should all be fired for even thinking about shooting the poor dogs with a captive bolt. If you read a study conducted at Hanover University, EEG and ECG recordings were taken on all animals to measure the condition of the brain and heart during the course of slaughter and stunning. EEG readings showed that although the animals were apparently unconscious soon after stunning with the penetrating captive bolt, they were experiencing severe pain immediately after stunning.

Let’s try it on them first and see if they have any pain.

Read the article here.

Orchard Beach Home To Be Condemned Due To Neglected Dogs

When the authorities raided a house in Orchard Beach, Maryland after a neighbor complained they found twenty one dogs that were unfed and malnourished. The house was so bad that the authorities had to condemn the house.

A neighbor named Krysta Dear said: The smell is horrendous, I can't have my windows open.

What I would like to know is why did it take so long from them to complain to the authorities about this and nothing was done. As a neighbor you would wonder why you haven’t seen any dogs running around outside but yet you can hear them all barking. And then to have to live next door to a smell like that and you still didn’t complain for so long, why not? Yes they said they have complained but I guess they didn’t complain enough if nothing was done about it. Just look at the video and see what the house looked like, I guess the authorities were really doing their job.

The home owner said: you can come in, but you're not going to like what you see.

Can you believe what the guy said after something like this. I hope they throw the book at him and make him pay dearly for what he has done to these poor dogs.

Read the article by Suzanne Collins here.

Who’s Throwing Chemicals On The Dogs

Photo by the Beaumont Police Department


That’s what the Beaumont Police in Texas would like to know. The Police have found three dogs that were burned by a chemical in the last few days on which two of the dogs had to be put to sleep. Why would anyone do something like this to a dog?

So if anyone knows who knows anything about who might have done this to the dogs please call the Beaumont Crime Stoppers at 833-TIPS or log onto www.BeaumontCrimeStoppers.com or text "BMT" plus their message to CRIMES (274637).

Read the article here.

One Just Has Too Many Animals And Another Must Close His Dog Rescue

You would think that a person would have learned a lesson when they were raided for hoarding animals, but no this guy has done it again. This time the Lycoming County SPAC took in about seventy five animals that were un-feed and living in despicable conditions. So where’s the punishment or is this acceptable in this state.


Well over in Miami-Dade a guy who has been taking in dogs at his Sabbath Memorial Dog Rescue hoping that someone will adopt one of these dogs is being told he must shut down. What’s wrong with this picture, when someone is trying to help these poor dogs find a home and not have to be killed?

Now Robbie Coy is looking for your help on trying to save these dogs before the end of September.

So The Philadelphia Eagles Hired The Dog Killer Vick, But One Fans Joke Has Gone Too Far

Photo by k. vonponyfeather's

I was sent a link to this page which showed Vick chocking a dog with a Dallas shirt on. I personally think this is a bit over the edge to use a dog being chocked after all the damage that Vick did to his dogs. I wonder where all the dog lovers are to protest this type of drawing that is a sick reminder of Vick's behavior. Some are calling this art, but if it was their dogs that were beaten and burned and left to die they wouldn’t be drawing something like this.

Read the article here.

Could A Skunk Kill A Dog?

That is just what might have happened to a dog named Kobe from Burton, Michigan. Janice Lazar said that her dog Kobe was sprayed by a skunk and within a week after a series of seizures the poor dog died.

Could this be true that a skunks spray was so lethal that it had made the dog sick enough to die.

A Pathologist at Michigan State University named Dr. Dalen Agnew said: Our research project is based on anecdotal information that suggests skunk spray is toxic, and in a few cases, dogs have died where no other disease was present.

Read the article by Teri Banas here.