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Compassion for our Dog Friends
Robert R. Odle, Ph.D.
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… a good deed never goes unpunished ....
After tennis today, this guy was hanging out by the dumpster that I nicknamed Blondie. With every car that came down the gravel road, he would run from the dumpster out into the road to look at the car. With everyone that got out to play tennis, he would run over see if they belonged to him, and finding they didn’t he would must his most fierce bark and warn everyone that someone was coming.
He had obviously missed a few meals, so I went to the local pet store and got him some food. I offered him some moist dog for small dogs that came out of a bag. He didn’t like that so I offered him some canned mighty dog. He didn’t like that, so I thought he might be thirsty. I went to my trunk to get a bowl and some water. When I came back, he was gone. He was in the back of my car,up in the window. It was hot and turned on the air conditioner for him. I called Amy and we discussed me bringing him home. The big problem we have with adopting a small dog is Ashton, a 26 pound Jack Russell. He has hurt a small dog badly and has killed a large Racoon and many other not so small animals. His instincts kick in around small animals, especially one that growl and bark at him. Bungalow, our small half-jack Russell, who is now 24 pounds, survived puppyhood because we used a shock collar on Ashton to keep him from killing Bungalow. Even with that effort, Bungalow has some scars from Ashton’s teeth tearing his flesh. They are great friends now and I suspect that Bungalow would follow Ashton’s lead. We decided we just weren’t going there.
Well, looked on my phone and drove down to Chesapeake City to find out the shelter there is no longer in business. Then I drove to the SPCA in Delaware on Highway 7. They said sure they can help and gave me a phone number to call. I called, told the truth about where Blondie got into my car. They told me he was a Maryland dog so they couldn’t help. I opened the door, and Blondie got out. I want inside and told a young man there that was a stray dog in their parking lot.
He came out and was trying to catch the dog as I started to drive away. About then, his boss came running out and intercepted me as I drove out their winding drive way. He ran in front of me, put his hands on his fists on his hips, spread his feet wide like he was preparing for battle. I stopped, rolled down my window. He came around and said “you can’t leave your dog here”.
I said, “he’s not my dog”.
“You brought him here.”
“I didn’t ask him to get in my car.”
“You need to call Maryland, Kent County, cause he’s a Maryland dog.” Kent County I am guessing is two or three hours away, although I really don't know where it is.
“Looks to me like you need to call Maryland.”
“I’m not going to let you leave here.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I’m not going to let you leave.”
“Well, I recommend you get some help. I would suggest you call the police for backup.”
While he was thinking about that, I popped the clutch went to the right so he wouldn’t be able to get his foolish ass in front of my car and drove off as he ran after my car repeating my license plate number. Of course, I had given my name and phone number to the number they told me to call. So, I wonder what happens next, if anything.
Blondie really looked stressed out when I left. Breathing hard and scared. I wanted what was best for Blondie, but felt I was out of options. I judged the young man that I had first talked to had compassion and wouldn’t let rules stand in his way of helping Blondie. I came home a little stressed out with the encounter with the hulk, not that I was afraid of him, but irritated that he was treating me like I was the bad guy.
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