Angel in a Dog Suit

My first dog was a German Shepherd named Shadow.  That was the sweetest, smartest dog I've ever had.  After we'd left for school in the mornings, Shadow would leave our house on Linton Avenue and walk up to my dad's office downtown and scratch on the door, asking to be let in.  At 2:00  p.m., when school let out, she'd walk to the door and howl, asking to be let out.  When we arrived home, there she was on the porch waiting for us.

A year or two later my dad moved his office from Commerce Street to Main Street.  Somehow, she knew the new location and walked up to Main to visit for the day.  My father used to cradle her in his arms and say, "You're just an angel in a dog suit."

We also had a sitter who came to stay with us every Thursday at 2 p.m.  On Thursdays, instead of going to my dad's office, Shadow walked down to the corner of Linton Avenue and Oak Street to wait for Augusta, whom she adored.  Augusta always brought a stick with which to scratch Shadow's rump.  How did Shadow know it was Thursday?  And sometimes, she'd go visit with my great aunt Annet on Clifton Avenue, always asking to be let back out in time for us to get home from school.  She was brilliant.  I couldn't think about Shadow for years after she died without collapsing in tears.

Now I'm looking for a home for another shepherd, this one snow white like an angel.  If you'd like to meet this angel in a dog suit and consider adopting him, please write me at epritchartt@yahoo.com.  I don't want to have to take him to the pound.  He's a sweet, affectionate dog.



Whitey:

Whitey just appeared one day a couple of years ago.  I think he's probably a young dog.  He's beautiful, too.  The shape and size of a German Shepherd.  I think of him as a white German Shepherd. I accidentally ran over him in the driveway one day, and he still loves me anyway. He's friendly, he's neutered and he needs a loving, forever home.  I'm moving soon, and if I don't find homes for these dogs, I can't imagine what I'll do.  Please share these stories with your friends.

Elodie

epritchartt@yahoo.com

Dog Days of Summer

Well, I knew the time would come, and it has.  We've sold my father's house, and now have to cull through a hundred fifty years of family furniture, mementos, photos and memories and decide what to take and what to give up.  It will be painful parting with things I've known all my life but the house I'm moving into is much, much smaller than this one, so I've no choice.  But frankly the older I get, the more zen I become, wanting to pare down and not be owned by possessions.

But the most painful paring of all will be parting with my father's beloved dogs.  The closer my dad got to his death, the more concerned he became for the lives of other creatures sharing our world.  He lived in the country where people often drive up, stop the car, shove a dog out onto the road and drive off.  Inevitably, the dogs would find his house, following some scent or sense that this was a safe haven.  In fact, he liked to refer to his place as "Cur Haven" rather than the stuffy "Grafton" it had been dubbed years ago.  He never turned away a hungry dog.

Whitey, Hessie, Teeny and Brownie

Every evening he fed the birds around the house.  Every evening he walked out to the pear tree in the side yard and poured corn for the deer, which congregated in huge numbers under its branches.  He would sit on the porch and watch the deer, his sense of amazement and magic never diminishing through all the years.

During droughts, he'd even pour water into the ruts in the road where tiny frogs hatched from tadpoles, spawned during spring showers.

He fed a couple of colonies of cats around town, never missing a day regardless of the weather. He also brought many of them home. And once in awhile, a cat would emerge from the woods, sensing that same safe haven.

The late, great Tommy Feral snuggling up to Versace.

Fully feral cats learned his voice, came when he called and eventually submitted to his gentle stroke, grateful that life was not so brutal as it had once been.

So now I have 10 dogs and seven cats, and while I can take the cats and one small dog with me, I can't accommodate 9 large dogs in a small house in downtown Natchez.  So I'm asking my readers to help me find homes for the other dogs, who deserve nothing more than to live out their lives in comfort  I'll post one dog per day  Today's dog is Tick Tick:

August 18, 2013 - Tick-Tick found a forever home today with a sweet family with three boys who have another Blue Tick hound, a female.  Tick-Tick should be very happy there!

Tick-Tick

Tick-Tick:

I found Tick-Tick (a Blue Tick Hound) in the front field one day gnawing on a deer carcass.  It was strange because I've never seen a dead deer just lying out in the open, especially since it wasn't deer season.  At first I thought it was Blue, another of Daddy's Blue Tick's.  The dog saw me driving down the driveway and jumped up and started trying to run after me.  You could almost hear him yelling, "Wait!  Help me!"

Suddenly I realized this wasn't Blue.  This dog was emaciated and limping badly.  So I stopped.  He was so happy to see me.  His front right paw was badly mangled.  His ears were shredded as well as his nose and mouth.  We later decided he'd been caught in a steel trap with a raccoon and had been trapped for weeks until his toes finally fell off and he was able to escape.  Those traps should be illegal.

I opened my car door and Tick-Tick jumped right in.  We took him to the vet where it was learned he had heartworms.  After amputating his leg and neutering him, he stayed at the vet for two months and was treated for the heartworms.  $2,000 later we had one of the sweetest dogs you've ever seen.   He's content to lie on the porch, eating dog food and getting love from anyone who cares to give it.  He's a big, goofy dog and would be wonderful with children.  I have no idea how old he is.

Please write me at epritchartt@yahoo.com if you'd like to meet this dog.