I had had some difficulty falling asleep the night before, so I didn’t awaken until nine in the morning. As I walked into the kitchen, my Sabrina announced, without protocol or premise: We’ve got a new dog.
Evidently an abused ten-year-old Doberman had been secured by law enforcement, and bought to the Emergency Vet Clinic in town. There she was given IV fluids in an attempt to correct her serious condition.
But Heaven had plans for her. A friend of ours, Sarah, [now known as ‘Her Guardian Angel’] had met the dog during her shift at work. Sarah was pleasantly surprised that ‘Cemone’ – as we named the Dobie – was very mild tempered despite the barbaric treatment of her last owner.
While receiving the IV fluids, the infusing catheter would periodically be unhooked so that Cemone could be taken outside for ‘business’ – then she was bought back in and the IV was re-connected. Each time the catheter was adjusted, Cemone offered her paw – the one with the IV – as our friend worked on it.
Therefore, as she walked by the front desk, and heard the words, “The Doberman is ready for the Pound to pick up.” She said, “No! No! Let me call some friends!” Thus, the early morning call with pictures and texts were sent to my Sabrina.
There was a conflict, however. Sabrina had promised to drive a friend out of town that day. Nevertheless, she grabbed a ‘doggie coat’ and made a quick side –trip to the emergency vets’ office. She told me the staff almost ran her back to the kennel containing the dog, so eager were they that anyone would consider adoption.
Sabrina was concerned, however; a dog that’s been abused can be very aggressive. To her relief ‘Cemone’ came out of her kennel slowly and licked Sabrina. That, as they say, settled her fate.
The next morning, Sabrina picked up Cemone and bought her home. To call her appearance ‘appalling’ would be in essence a failure of the English language. Her reality was more merciless than the pictures had been. She was a ten-year-old black Doberman who should have weighed near ninety pounds; she was twenty-five pounds under-weight due to starvation. Her hair was largely gone due to fleas; she had diffuse muscle atrophy, and a four inch laceration on her mid-back where her owner had struck her two weeks earlier with the edge of a long-handled shovel. The resulting wound, of course, had not been tended.
Later that same morning, we took Cemone to the Big Lick Veterinary Clinic. Cemone met five strangers, and lick-kissed each one, as she had Sabrina and me. As the vet, Dr. Amos, took blood from her, Cemone laid her muzzle on his shoulder.
That Heaven was involved in this rescue is undeniable. An unanswered question hangs yet in the air: how do some animals so well versed in calculated, unimaginable cruelty remain so sweet, so trusting?
Though beaten and starved, Cemone – no longer sure she merits loving treatment – nevertheless gives the only gifts she has to give: timid kisses and tentative tail wags in hopes that whatever human she meets will not harm her, despite being conditioned to be unsure of the response she will get.
Cemone has suffered her last indignity, felt her last blow, and the gnawing pain of hunger will, at worst, be but a memory. Be our time with her long or foreshortened, on our watch, she will find love, shelter and warmth, and a debt long, long overdue will at last be re-paid.
– Lucky Garvin
