Animal Stories & Poetry

She was standing there at the corner of 5th & Chestnut streets in Camden, looking sad and hurting and covered with mange. I noticed her shivering as she licked some dirty snow off the asphalt. Then she trotted away, her head still down.

It was the day of Primetime's video taping. A knot was in my stomach as I was taking the camera crew through the streets. It seemed as if I had been hired as some sort of bad-dream tour guide. With every turn we took, I was afraid to see what I knew was there. The crew's tapes already held enough footage of homeless dogs and cats for several shows, plus footage of our efforts taking two injured dogs off the street. Luckily, those two had settled down in the back of the van.

And now this. I was terrified by the dog's misery, but this was after all one more element they had come to tape. "Stop the van here. We've got to stop and try," I said and added, "might as well turn everything off — this will take time." I knew full well just how idiotic and unprofessional my remarks must have sounded to the crew. But in the end we couldn't get near the dog, all we had was the video footage of her demise. It snowed heavily that night and I found myself wondering about the dog.

"Sandy, I need your help," I said in my best early morning phone voice, "… there's no question, I can not do this alone. The dog is scared and runs." Sandy didn't respond right away and I worried, it was my fifth call. "I can't get away today, but tomorrow — can you wait?"

The next morning presented itself as the snowstorm of the year. Hardly anyone was on the road as I drove to our designated meeting place. I waited for some time wondering if Sandy would be able to make it at all. "You sure picked a great day," she greeted me while knocking on my van window. "True," I replied, "but at least we'll be able to track the dog in the snow." It wasn't very convincing, but Sandy got into the car anyway.

At 5th & Chestnut, we questioned a man at a service station who knew nothing and otherwise wasn't interested. There was hardly anyone around and others wouldn't open their door. All in all there seemed to be no interest in the subject.
Just like everything else, school was closed, too. Nearby a couple of girls were out and having a ball in the white stuff. "Kids always know," I said to Sandy, "let's go ask." The kids had seen a sick dog in their neighborhood for some time. "That dog, he's sick for sure — doesn't have a home either," they noted, matter-of-fact. "Yes, we know," said Sandy, "we're trying to find him and take him to a hospital." The girls looked at each other and nodded approvingly, "that's nice." They were ready to help and it was help that we needed.

The kids pointed out a few abandoned houses that may serve as shelter for the dog. The most promising one, according to the girls, had a 12-foot fence around it.
We checked the first two houses. A small brown dog with an injured leg lived in one of them. A friendly and brave little guy; Brownie, we named him. Sandy carried him out right away and secured a comfortable spot in the van for him. In the next house the basement staircase gave away and I plunged down into the basement. A basement window presented itself as the only exit which by chance was devoid of glass and bars.

The girls were watching from the street and suggested that we should be more careful and furthermore that we should refrain from climbing the 12-foot fence. "Don't you just love 'em," whispered Sandy. "Not to worry girls, we're pros — we do this all the time," she shouted. Once over the fence, we noticed that a part of the lower portion of the fence wasn't even attached to the metal bars. We could have simply gone through it. "That's how we get the dog out then," I mumbled apologetically.

There were no paw prints in the snow surrounding the house and we suspected that if the dog uses this house as a refuge she would still be inside. We pushed aside a variety of junk and entered the house. "Let's put this board in front of the door, just in case," I motioned to Sandy. The house had the distinct sharp smell of a sick animal. And indeed, the kids had been right this was the dog's refuge, the same one I had observed at 5th and Chestnut two days earlier. She must have heard all the commotion we made getting into the house. Her first reaction was a certain amount of curiosity. For a moment she just stood and watched me as I approached. Then she retreated and hid behind old kitchen cabinets that were piled up in the middle of the room. A few more steps on my part and she scrambled away. But the dog didn't see Sandy who was standing in the dim background and she ended up running right into the noose.

The dog struggled a little, but she was weak and gave up quickly. We were able to touch and comfort her almost immediately. She looked up at us and then sat down. We could only guess if these had been her first kind words and kind hands she had ever encountered. "Let's name you Chessi — how would you like that?" I said softly and stroked her head. The girls had waited anxiously by the fence and broke into cheers as we led Chessi out and hoisted her into van.

Chessi After
Chessi in her new home.

Because of Chessi's extremely deteriorated condition, she stayed at the veterinary clinic for almost four months. Her case presented itself as quite a medical challenge, much more so than anticipated. Chessi was ultimately adopted by a loving family whose life she undeniably impacted in her own tender way.

The two dogs we rescued during the taping, later named Tommy and Tyler, were treated at the hospital the same day.

Brownie's leg healed nicely. He remained the friendly little character he was when we found him. All found loving homes.

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Cry From a Lonely Dog

I wish someone would tell me what it is that I've done wrong.
Why I've had to stay chained up and left alone so long
They seemed so glad to have me when I came here as a pup.
There were so many things we'd do while I was growing up.

They couldn't wait to train me as a companion and as a friend.
And told me how they'd never fear being left alone again.
The children said they'd feed me and brush me every day.
They'd play with me and walk me if only I could stay.

But now the family "hasn't time"; they often say I shed.
They do not want me in the house, not even to be fed.
The children never walk me. They always say, "Not now!
I wish that I could please them. Won't someone tell me how?

All I had, you see, was love. I wish they would explain.
Why they said they wanted me, then left me on a chain.

Author Unknown

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