How Rescuing a Shelter Dog Helped to Heal My Grieving Heart
Many of us rescue animals not only because we value them, but also because deep down we’re trying to heal the lost, abandoned, and vulnerable parts of ourselves.
The kennel at the animal shelter was absolutely packed. It seemed like there were hundreds of dogs in there, as many as five or six to a run, their voices clamoring in a cacophony of barking. I hadn’t been to a shelter in many years, but when my rescue friends, Jennifer and Nick from Angels Among Us Pet Rescue, invited me to visit one of Atlanta’s inner-city animal shelters and help them possibly rescue a couple of dogs, I jumped at the chance.
But when we first walked into the place, I have to admit it took me a few minutes to get my emotions under control. The sight of so many Pit Bull-type dogs, whining, crying, and jumping up against the chain-link barriers, staring at me with pleading eyes, was absolutely overwhelming and heart wrenching. I wished I could save every one of them, while silently despising the irresponsible humans who had put them there.
I was walking down the last aisle of runs when I spotted her — a large, gangly young dog with a Mastiff-like head, smooth red coat, and sweet, wrinkly face. Lying there, she looked like a sphinx, gazing about her with a solemn, confused expression, as if fighting to maintain her composure in such frenetic, undignified surroundings. I’m not sure if it was her dark, soulful eyes, those big paws, or that wrinkly brow that got me, but I was immediately drawn to her.
Mandy when I first saw her at the shelter. She had been found as a stray. (Photo by Lisa Plummer Savas)
As I approached the run, her kennelmate, a blue Pit Bull, rushed the fence, tail whipping back and forth at top speed in anticipation. Feeling sorry for the poor blue girl, I crouched down and pressed my hand against the chain link so she could sniff and lick my skin. Yet all the while my gaze was fixed on the red girl, who hadn’t moved and was watching me, as if politely waiting her turn. When I called to her, she jumped up, a flicker of hope alighting in her eyes, but the blue Pit became territorial and immediately blocked her path. It was obvious that the red girl was the submissive dog in the run, the way she hung back with her head low and eyes averted, obviously afraid to get too close for fear of reprisal from her dominant kennelmate.
Lisa Plummer Savas | Nov 3rd 2015