Anyone who knows me knows I love Huskies. It's been the hardest thing to turn them away the last few months since we have no more room, but it is a sad fact of our world right now. But when I got the photos of Georgia two days ago, there was just no way I couldn't open up one more kennel space for her.
The email came through to me as "Husky In Need" from a fellow rescuer. She assured me that I was under no obligation to take the dog on, knowing she was going to need a lot of care. But that has become our specialty. All I could see in the photos was some group of fur. All the huskies I've ever known were proud dogs, always had their heads high, smiles almost back to their ears. This dog had her head down, almost ashamed at her pitiful appearance. I was assured she had someone to foster her, so we just needed the financial backing. I agreed. I knew it was a bad thing when I got a personal email from the vet, outlining all her problems. So I decided, given all the care she is going to need, and the length of time it was going to take, to bring her out to the ranch. So I picked her up from Tybee after my dentist appointment this afternoon.
I'm used to dogs pulling on leashes, but Georgia didn't know what was going on enough to realize she could pull if she wanted to. I opened up the truck door and put her inside. We were low on gas, so I stopped before leaving the island. I couldn't quite place the name for her. I thought of beach names since I picked her up from Tybee, but that wasn't her original home so it didn't seem to fit. Her coat reminded me of Georgia red clay... so Georgia it became. I got back in the car, turned to tell her we had a long ride home so she should get comfortable. I got a quick kiss on the face.
We drove home. I had so much on my mind... what was she going to do with the other dogs, would her fur ever grow back, what about the complications for having her spayed, what all was on the list Dr. Pam emailed me. True, we could treat more dogs with fewer conditions for what she's going to cost us, but is that really fair? We just went bankrupt on the litter of puppies from the cardboard box that had parvo. In what we do, there is never a sure thing. Even "owned" dogs come to us with issues. No one's perfect.
When we arrived to the ranch, I got the camera out to take photos. The sunlight hit her coat perfectly, but it also made it easier to show all her baggage: missing fur, permanent scars, skinny frame. All this in just two years just so she could make a profit for someone. Sadly, Georgia is not atypical for backyard breeding dogs. We've seen lots of them come through. Luckily though she is eager to be touched and petted and give her kisses to anyone who will accept them. We found the only can of adult food as she has only a few teeth that need root canals and can't really chew. She hasn't even touched her food. I'm hoping she will realize that we will always feed her and make sure her belly is full. But I know from experience, these things take time.
In an attempt to soothe her rough skin, I gave her a bath with some medical shampoo tonight that does a lot to help stop itching. Like most dogs, Georgia was not keen on the idea of a bath. I knew she had one over the weekend, but it was probably her first one ever. Part of using the medicated shampoo is that it has to sit on the skin for 10 minutes. I had forgotten my cell phone, so I decided I'd sing a few Jimmy Buffett songs to pass the time. I didn't have a radio, but knew plenty by heart. After five songs, I figured she'd suffered enough and ran the water again. The sudden sound made her jump... right over my shoulder. I caught her mid air before my back hit the toilet behind me. The floor needed a good scrubbing anyway, so the suds everywhere didn't hurt anything. We finished the bath, and she tolerated the blow dryer. By tolerated I mean she tried to run through my legs and out the door but I caught her and held her like my own thighmaster.
I put her back in her crate. As if I hadn't tormented her enough, I had to now give her eye medication and a capsule. Normally, I'd put the pill in a treat and give it to the dog. No, instead, Georgia mouthed around the treat part, trying to figure out how to eat it without the pill. It wasn't pretty. Apparantly, she also decided she no longer wanted to smell like cucumber and spent 30 minutes trying to like off the smell until she wore herself out and crashed.
It's my hope that as we work with Georgia, people will become more educated about what happens to the dogs used to produce those cute little puppies at the flea markets and in the classified ads. Maybe one day we can actually stop the cycle.
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