A Nice Rescue Story

As if it were any surprise, I took the dogs to the dog park this morning. It has been a pretty usual morning here at The Lodge. Kiera got up late. Kiera took a shower. The morning was a little behind. I wasnt hoping for great things the rest of the day.

We all got in the car and I lectured Kiera (again) about the virtues of getting up on time. Pretty sure it fell on deaf ears (again). 

I dropped her at the door of her school. Told her I loved her and to "have a good day." Probably shouldnt have lectured her if I wanted her to have a good day but sheesh, this is gettin' old.

I drove to the dog park and somewhere just before we got off the off ramp and onto Highway C, Lucky-Jim and Te'a started the dog park song. It usually starts off kind of soft and wimpery and swells into all out barking at the top of ones lungs. Usually  mine. Telling the crew to be quiet. This morning was no different. Hard to focus on traffic when you cant hear yourself think.

When we arrived at the dog park, the cacophony in the car had reached decibels that they could hear in Russia. Everybody OUT! Everybody in the Gates.

Mocha, as usual, lately, decided to fool around outside of the fence. This in the wake of her running away at 630 this morning. Rrrrrr.

There was only one other vehicle at the park. 

As I herded the pack into the gates, I heard a little yip. The other patron at the park was an older guy with a young looking German Shepherd Pup. Somebody give me an awwwwww.

Lucky Jim was all about getting in puppy's face and I grabbed the nearest tennis ball and launched it away from "Mandy". Poor little pup was scared to death and kept hiding under the bench by the gate.

I got to talking with the owner and he said that he's been bringing the pup here for about a week or so. He's working on socialization and I said, "Yep. This is a good place for that."

We walked together for a bit and he asked if Lucky-Jim was part Wolfhound. I laughed. I get that A LOT. He's a huge doodle. With this charcoal fuzzy hair and big melon, he's often mistaken for a Wolfhound. I told him about Lucky-Jim's heritage and that he was my foster dog. I told him that we fostered for Fluffy Dog Rescue. 

"Oh," he says to me, he says, "Mandy is a rescue."

He was out in California working on building his cabin when his nephew called him. The nephew said that his wife had been up in the mountains and had come home with a dog. She was waaaaaay up on the private roads and what looked like a bear cub came ambling out of the brush. She looked around for other people or another dog but none could be found so she scooped up the pup and brought it home. 

They had kept the dog for about a week or so but decided that a brand new puppy was a bit much to take on as they had a baby on the way. The nephew asked his uncle if he wanted the dog. "No," he said, "Go ahead and take her to the pound."

At the last second, the uncle called his nephew back and said, "No, I want the dog."

"WoW,"  I said. "You should call her Miracle Mandy". 

He laughed and said, "No, her name is Manzy. We found her in the Manzanita Mountains."

Ah. My bad.

A few weeks later, another pup, just like Manzy was found down in the valley. Six weeks later, the nephew was up checking on his uncle's property when he came across yet another pup. He found a bag of dog food that had been left behind and tossed it to the dog. When he went back the next day, he discovered only remains of the dog. It had been killed by a mountain lion. 

Don't miss out on the opportunity to do something extraordinary. 

Practice random acts of kindness. 

Oh, and By the Way. Lucky Jim asked Santa for his own home for Christmas. So did Lincoln Winky. They are both housetrained, oh so loveable and very very cuddly and very energetic. They are however polar opposites on the size scale. Lucky Jim is 75 pounds and Lincoln Wink is about 20, maybe.

Thank You for Thinking Rescue. Thank You for Reading. 

Now, go out and do something nice. Go on.