TulsaPets Magazine Nov/Dec 2020

November/December 2020 • TulsaPets 27 I t was a good morning. I was up and out the door on time. Everything was perfectly on track. And then I saw her. At first, she was no more than a tiny shadow slipping in and out between the rays of sun peeking through the roadside trees. As I slowed my Jeep, I wasn’t really sure what I was seeing. A feral cat? A scrawny little raccoon? I finally got a clear look. It was an emaciated little dog. She trotted along the side of the road at a mechanical, steady clip. Her eyes darting furtively my way were the only sign that she even noticed the vehicle alongside her. This was a dog on her last leg. She needed help, and, suddenly, “on time” that morning meant that I was already at the right place at the right time instead of headed toward my goal of being on time for work. I grabbed my stash of dog treats and the slip lead I always have at the ready, stopped the car and hopped out to walk beside the dark little figure to see if I could forge a quick friendship. She, however, had no interest in getting to know me and quickly darted toward the ditch that led into an easement area thick with brush and trees. If she escaped into that cover, my chances of finding her again would be slim and meant certain demise for this poor creature. Failure was just not an option. It was time for plan B. I backed away until she felt secure in her determined path forward on the road once again. I hopped in my Jeep and drove about 50 feet ahead of her. Then I started placing a trail of dog food in her path, leading to my position behind my vehicle. Desperate hunger won out over her concern about the human sitting at the end of her traveling feast. Once she drew near to me, I placed a small pile of food between us and let her eat with no further pressure from me. I gave her another small pile. And another. Soon she was looking to me, hoping I would replenish her roadside picnic. I offered another course but this time held it in my hand—the one with my leash casually looped over my wrist. As she stretched her thin neck forward to reach the offered food, I quickly slipped the noose of my lead from my wrist over her head. My little traveler balked in surprise, but she quickly returned to gobble the kibble that had spilled on the ground. Once I had her secured, I could finally get a good look at my new friend. The dog I initially believed to be a small mixed breed was, in fact, a tiny Australian Cattle Dog, also known as a Blue Heeler. Her thin skin and rough, filthy coat stretched over nothing but bones. She had no muscle mass, no fat. Where she should have had a firm little belly, it felt like a deflated balloon. Her condition was so extreme that I honestly couldn’t tell if she was a puppy or a small senior. I have rarely seen a dog this depleted still able to walk, let alone trot down the road. With quick roadside assistance from my partner, JimThomason, I was able to get a crate and load the now trembling dog into the back of my Jeep. I immediately put in a call to the vet as I headed toward Tulsa. This dog needed help, and she needed it right away. My friends at Hammond Animal Hospital immediately agreed to take the dog for an exam and observation. Because we had no idea if she might be ill or if she had ever had STORY AND PHOTOS BY: Nancy Gallimore Hope A Little A RESCUED DOG RECEIVES THE GIFT OF LOVE AND A HAPPY NEW BEGINNING