ANIMAL ABUSE * Starving Dog On a Rusty Log Chain
His small bony body was covered with infected fly bites. Starving, he was eating his own pooh. Connected to an old tire, a heavy log chain was looped tightly around his neck. He looked like a small bony fox, his ears as big as his head. I nicknamed him Obi.
How could anyone treat an animal this way? Did it ever occur to the owners the dog they claimed as a pet, may be suffering from neglect? Was he the children’s responsibility, no one checking to see if they were feeding and watering him? How could they not put them selves in this little creatures place? The way the dog cowered at my touch made me realize the few encounters he had with “care” had also been with a kick in the head. I cried for him. I began to bring food and water for him daily, but could do nothing for protection. Soon I felt like I was sneaking on someone else’s property. Is this the way people used to feel listening to someone beat their child or Grandparent?
At night the summer storms raged and I thought of him cowering in the rain and the lightning. Every morning I drove to the end of the block and walked down the alley to bring food and water. Finally I told my City Council not to be surprised if a complaint came that I had stolen “Obi.” It would be me. They assured me the best thing would be to first give the family of 2 children a warning. Then if there were no improvements they would give a ticket. But nothing changed. By autumn the temperature dropped below 32 degrees. I saw my plants die….and I thought of the little Fox Terrier.
One day my husband and I went out of town. I realized I could not be there for “Obi” at my usual feeding time. When we got back home, at 10:00 PM I crept back in to the alley with food and water. My husband had told me I was nuts and that it could wait until morning. I didn’t listen. Something was wrong.
As I came closer to the back of the house in the alley I could hear gagging sounds. The small dog was strangling, a frozen blanket wrapped around his neck had constricted like a Cobra. He was dying a long horrible strangulation. I franticly tried to unwind the frozen blanket from his neck but in my attempts was actually making it tighter. With out wondering about the consequences of my actions or words, I ran to a friendly home a block down the street and asked if I could use a knife for an emergency. What they must have thought! Their trusting hearts gave me an old steak knife and down the block I ran.
Obi was on his back, limp, moments to death. Cradling him in my arms I quickly cut the blanket free with 2 quick strokes of the knife. He was free but unconscious. I don’t know how, but the chain broke free. {I like to think it was God and my Angels.} Holding Obi to my body I raced down the alley to my truck and lay him in the front seat. As I brought him into the house my husband said “OH NO! NOT ANOTHER DOG! I didn’t listen. Obi quickly came to. Joyfully in the warmth and shelter of the house he started bounding up and down the furniture.
Now, “Obi” is “Budweiser” and sleeps in a soft bed every night in the arms of my husband’s bachelor brother. The love of each others life, they ride to the park to hike in the woods in a red truck. When ever I tell him the story of his dog, tears come to his eyes. They are inseparable. It is the best adopted home a small dog could ask for.