The Electrician and I once again have a temporary houseguest from Second Chance Animal Rescue Society. She’s a big gorgeous redhead, most likely a saint bernard and boxer cross, but there may be some “bonus” breeds in her too. I like to joke that our latest foster dog is a fire truck mix since she’s a very large red dog. Meet Caroline.
Before coming into SCARS’ care, Caroline was named “Puddles,” which no dog weighing more than seven pounds should ever be called. Caroline has produced multiple litters of puppies: she was nursing her latest babies and in rough shape when she was taken in. One of my own concerns about getting older is the risk (or impossibility) of a sagging bust line; I feel sorry for Caroline because her children have left her with not two drooping breasts, but eight! Poor girl. Like so many dogs from the reserves where SCARS rescues many of its animals, the dog formerly known as Puddles has never had adequate care or nutrition, and she is so grateful for any tidbit of food or hint of affection she’s given in her new life in foster care.
Although SCARS volunteers assigned her a new name (because anything was better than Puddles) she was simply ignoring her improved title. When I picked her up, the SCARS volunteer who drove her down from up north told me I could try a new name because the one they were attempting did not seem to stick. Miss Caroline was loaded into the hatch of my SUV, but promptly leapt over the seat to be closer to me despite being tied up. I was starting to feel a little concerned about driving with a stressed dog barely restrained in my backseat, and wondering if I should pull over and call The Electrician for backup, when Neil Diamond came on the radio. “Sweet Caroline” started up, and this huge red dog plopped her head on my right shoulder, took a melodramatic sigh, and calmed down completely. I don’t blame her for finding the classics soothing, and I took it as a sign for a great new name for this great big dog: how could I call her anything but Caroline after that? We rode home the rest of the trip with her resting that lovable face on my shoulder, breathing dog breath in my ear.
Amazingly, after being called Caroline for a whole 24 hours, she looks up when someone speaks to her by name, and she also comes when I call her. Sometimes it’s just a matter of finding the right name, I guess.
Sweet Caroline was spayed on Thursday and is working on the list of all the vaccines she should have had but never got. The vet who “fixed” her thinks she’s no more than two, and she’s going to be stunning once we get a little more weight on her bony body. Most likely, she’ll break 100 pounds once she has been eating well without feeding babies.
As a positive side note, five of Caroline’s puppies came into care with her, and four have already found new homes. I worry about the older dogs, although being only two means she probably has a good decade of living ahead and is by no means “old.” It’s hard to watch people adopting puppy after puppy largely because of the cute factor and passing over beautiful animals like Caroline, who is already housebroken, loves her crate, and is pretty good on a leash. I want all the foster dogs to find loving families, but I wish the adult dogs didn’t have to wait so long. I have my fingers crossed for a wonderful permanent home to arise soon for this lovable mutt. She has gotten her second chance through SCARS, and I want to see her enjoying a good life filled with all the simple things that make a dog happy.
copyright 2012: http://bluespeckledpup.com