Toby was one of four unfortunate American Cocker Spaniels to find himself desperately close to euthanasia at a shelter in Kenosha County, Wisconsin. He was a pretty, gentle, tricolor male. One person on staff at the shelter contacted our Center and asked if we could help. We shifted into immediate action, posting Toby and his counterparts and their plight across the rescue newsgroups and on our home page. Pictures arrived overnight, and soon the phone lines in Kenosha were lighting up. Miraculously, all four of the Cockers found loving homes. Toby (whom we promoted under the name "Rocky") went to a wonderful couple in Boston, Massachusetts. It was practically love at first sight, but soon it was clear that Toby wasn't well and that he wasn't going to live much longer. I leave the rest of the story to Toby's adopted father, who speaks in heartfelt words of a dog he saved and grew to love in a tragically short time. All of us wish we could have done more for Toby, and, in many ways, he symbolizes the plight of all abandoned, neglected, and/or abused animals. He was full of love and life, forgiveness and potential, and if there were more people in the world like his adopters and fewer like the ones who threw him away, our jobs would not only be easier, they might even become unnecessary. That day is long off. Until then, let Toby stand as a poignant reminder of what was and what might be.
TOBY By Matt Cross I remember the day we picked him up from the airport. It seemed weird to rescue a dog from Wisconsin from a post on the 'Net, but it also felt good to save him. He was so excited to be out of his crate! He whined and danced around on the end of his leash. He moved quickly, and his nails clacking on the linoleum had a very dog-like rhythm to them. Even that first day, through the stress of being on a plane, he remembered his training and didn't make a mess until we got outside. He had bad ear infections, so I did what the vet told me. I cleaned his ears daily, and he took it like a champ. He stood still through the whole thing, only moaning when I cleaned a sensitive spot. He knew I was helping him. He had a very cat-like way of showing his affection. He walked around you (clickety-clack), rubbing his head and body against you, making moaning and whining noises and wagging his tail to show how happy he was that you were petting him. That first week, I spent many long hours in the basement. He loved to lie at my feet and sleep. If I got up and moved, he followed me, then went back to sleep at my feet. He always got so excited when I came home from work. He danced and wagged his tail so much, I thought he would explode. He had many problems. It was hard for him to go up and down stairs, but the vet said it was something with his left hip, but they needed an x-ray to tell more. He never ran or played with dog toys. He never went into the middle of an open area, always sticking to the edges. He drank water almost constantly. In spite of this, he was always happy to get attention. Then he stopped eating one day. Turns out he had kidney disease; pretty bad, too. He spent three days in the hospital on an IV but didn't get much better. It was the hardest thing that I have ever done, saying goodbye to him. It was the only thing that could be done. I'm sorry, Toby, that we couldn't make you better, so that you could be truly happy with us. I hope you look back on your last two weeks and feel that at least somebody loved you. |
This page was written by
Valerie Macys
