What a Difference a Day Makes.

Yesterday the pups and I drove in through this gate at the animal shelter. Today we all drove right back out!

To all of you ladies out there who are pretty criers…good for you.  Really. It’s an art. And I am not in your sorority.

I don’t cry often and when I do, I don’t cry for long. There’s a good reason. It’s NOT pretty. Instead of big tears welling in my eyes and rolling perfectly down my porcelain cheeks, everything seems to come right out of my nose. Runny does not describe it adequately. And I get red. And blotchy. And my eyes get comically puffy.

Today I cried for the second day in a row. What. The. Heck? I do not cry. But apparently I do.

Yesterday I cried in frustration. I found three young German shepherd mix puppies dumped on a country road. This is not a surprise in my world, I find homeless dogs all the time. But three? At once? After already taking in four young dogs recently?  Yeah, I had a meltdown.

But there was no leaving them behind. I have always had a special relationship with animals—dogs in particular. This trio needed help. They were tired, hungry, thin, and infested with ticks. INFESTED. The stuff nightmares are made of.

Not for the squeamish...

Not for the squeamish. The ticks you see in his ear…and look closely, his flap is solid ticks…are just a small fraction of the total infestation.

So I picked them up and, as I related yesterday, my only option was to take them to a small shelter that was nearby. Have I mentioned that I have never had to take an animal to a shelter? Yeah. Never. It was a hard choice, and I hated to burden an already packed little shelter, but I had no other option.

As I left the dogs with a promise that I would be back for them, the ugly cry that was welling up from my heart barely allowed me time to get to the parking lot where I could carry on in the privacy of the Jeep. Though it was far better for the dogs to be safe in the shelter with food and water available, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had somehow let them down. At the same time I truly had no idea how I was going to keep my promise to return for them.

Today I had a good cry once again. But this time it was a happy cry. Apparently I do that now too. Geeze.

After posting about my foundlings through this blog and on Facebook, I immediately started receiving offers of help, suggestions for places for the dogs to go, and even people who wanted to organize a fundraiser to support the dogs. The one moment that really started the nasal waterworks for me was when an amazing friend not only suggested a solution, but made all of the arrangements.

She called her veterinarian, told him about the dogs, offered to support them (though she won’t be alone in that burden!), and sent me a plan. Holy cow! All I had to do was play chauffeur. Dang it, my nose is running just writing about it. What an amazing thing she did.

With a plan in place, I was able to meet a volunteer at the shelter, reclaim my scruffy little friends, and drive them to a beautiful veterinary hospital where they would be relieved of the hundreds of ticks that were torturing them and where they can receive any medical attention they need.

Yesterday was nothing but a question mark. Today, three sweet pups have a comfortable, clean place to rest and, most importantly, they have hope. They also have a guardian angel named Bette. Bette is 100% awesome and I am grateful to her beyond words.

So now I’m heading out to coat the inside of my Jeep with flea and tick spray. Oh how I wish it came in ‘new car’ scent.

I’m also suffering from a bad case of the creepy crawlies because I had to carry each of the dogs out of the shelter and then into the vet hospital. Ick. Not to mention riding with them in the car. With hundreds and hundreds of ticks. Ick squared.

So far the tick count on Nancy stands at three…but it might as well be 50. However, the heebie-jeebies are a small price to pay in exchange for the knowledge that the three dogs are safe tonight. And hey, I should feel much better after about five or six or 20 showers.

The dogs will recover. I will recover. Hopefully this crying stuff is a temporary affliction. My faith in the human species is greatly restored. I know an angel named Bette. I know an army of angels who have offered help, potential foster and adoptive homes.

Way to put the ‘human’ back in ‘humane,’ friends. To whoever neglected and dumped these dogs, you better hope my angel army never tracks you down. You’ll be the one crying if they do.

2 thoughts on “What a Difference a Day Makes.

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