Today, on the 11th birthday of my best friend Squiggy, I think it appropriate to tell the story of how he came to be my dog. 11 isn't the end, but he's not getting any younger.
Before the clinic I'm currently at, I worked at the Ottawa Humane Society for 6 years. Probably around my 4th or 5th year there, during the spring, we had yet another Parvovirus outbreak. Part of my job was assessing the sick and preparing the list for euthanasia each day, and when Parvo hits a shelter, your list gets big. The mortality rate in the very young and old is high, and it spreads like wildfire through a shelter environment.
I must admit I don't remember the exact details, but one day during my morning rounds I came upon this 6 month old little red pit bull terrier mix, who had broke with diarrhea and vomiting-- classic signs of Parvo. Looking at his sweet little face, I decided to try and save this one as he was a little bit older (6 months is enough of a headway to maybe fight the disease off a little more) and discussed it with some shelter staff who decided we should try with this guy. He had been brought to the shelter by Vanier Bylaw, roaming the streets, and after his "stray period" was up, had not been claimed. The shelters' gift to this little guy during his waiting period, was Parvo.
In went his intravenous catheter to support him with fluids while the virus took it's course, and then we would play a waiting game. During his first day on fluids, in the isolation ward by himself, he had managed to chew out his catheter. No big deal, puppies get bored- we replaced it. The day went on and he continued to do pretty well. At the end of the day, after everyone else had left, I decided to go check on the red pit bull. Of course, everyone had left the building, and Squiggy had chewed his catheter out... again. He had been so sweet with us earlier in the day, I thought I would just try and replace it myself. At that moment, as I stuck a needle into his leg, taped it in, and he lied there without moving an inch or making a peep, I knew this guy was special. A gentle little lost red boy.
Over the next couple of days, Squiggy continued to improve but then needed a foster home to go to while he finished shedding the virus. It was clear he was coming with me. I brought him home only to discover this wonderful, crate trained, house trained dog. Who gave him up? Who taught him to sit and then let him run around only to not come looking for him? I really found it mind boggling. He was probably the best foster dog I'd ever had. Sure, he liked to turn the living room into a giant cloud of pillow stuffing once in a while, but he really was amazing.
I have to say I've fostered many dogs, owned two with the "ex", but never have I known such a trusting and gentle dog. I would let him loose in a room full of toddlers with pork chops tied around their necks and not blink twice-- okay, figuratively speaking folks.... To me, Squiggy is the kind of dog you could close his tail in the door of a car and his first thought wouldn't be to bite the source of pain, but only cry out to make it stop. He's that kind of dog. The kind of dog I had to quit an obedience class with, because their "negative reinforcement" methods of correcting with a choke collar, turned my dog into a fearful, cowering dog every time he got "corrected". Well, I corrected that pretty quickly-- we quit.
He has been with me through failed relationships, various roommates and their pets, the passing of his "sibling" cats and 3 new ones and not even batted an eye. He was a blood donor for Alta Vista for many years, saving more than one life and giving up his own blood like a trooper-- and because I volunteered him for it. :P We've done (okay, tried) agility (not his forte), he used to run with me when he was younger, he's been on one too many camping excursions only to let me know that it's clearly not his thing and he's been my companion for the Humane Society's Wiggle Waggle Walkathon for about 7 years in a row now, helping me raise at least $20 000.00 for others in the same predicament as he once was
Through it all, he has been my buddy and I only hope that I can see that "breakfast face"-- (his favourite, most excited time of the day when he sees me coming with his bowl full of kibble, anti-inflammatories, and joint supplements)-- I only hope that I can see that face every morning, for many more days to come.
Thank you for being my friend Squiggy. Happy Birthday.
Mom
**Speaking of the Walkathon.... you can sponsor us again this year (Squig will be doing part of his walk in a wagon this year... damn arthritis) at: http://www.ohsre.ca/NETCOMMUNITY/Page.aspx?pid=190&srcid=292&frsid=839 **
Thanks!
