By Amanda Dodson
I think dogs are the most amazing creatures; they give unconditional love. For me they are the role model for being alive.
~Gilda Radner
"Donna, did you see the news tonight?" asked Ramona. I hadn't. It was another late evening and I was packing up to leave the hair salon that I had owned for the last sixteen years.
I think dogs are the most amazing creatures; they give unconditional love. For me they are the role model for being alive.
~Gilda Radner
"Donna, did you see the news tonight?" asked Ramona. I hadn't. It was another late evening and I was packing up to leave the hair salon that I had owned for the last sixteen years.
"A puppy was dropped off at the shelter, and it had been beaten and set on fire," she said. Ramona was nearly in tears telling me the horrific details. My heart sank. I didn't understand how people could be so cruel. The wounded Pit Bull mix puppy had suffered second and third degree burns over sixty percent of its body, the dog's jaw was broken and the tips of its ears were singed. Everyone assumed the injured animal would be put to sleep, but at the shelter, in spite of its pain, the dog continued to wag its tail and lick anyone who came close.
In the weeks following, Ramona was chosen to foster the four-month-old puppy until a permanent home could be found. The courageous dog had been named Susie and had already endured a number of surgeries. Susie needed around-the-clock medical care. Ramona was scheduled to go out of town one weekend so I volunteered to bring Susie home and care for her. When I walked in the door, my husband Roy looked skeptical.
"It's a Pit Bull. Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.
His concern was legitimate. A year earlier I had been attacked by a Pit Bull and Roy knew I still had nightmares from the incident. A family in our neighborhood had moved, leaving behind their dog chained up with no food or water. I was appalled and was trying to find the animal a home. Every evening I filled up its empty food and water bowls. But on this particular day I turned around and the dog clenched down on my calf. He shook his head back and forth, gnawing into my skin. His strength knocked me to the ground where he let go of my leg and began biting my neck. I could see the blood pouring onto the ground beside me. With all my might I pushed the animal off with both of my hands and began running. Doctors would later tell me I was lucky to be alive. I endured forty stitches and was unable to walk for six weeks.
But Susie was different. There was nothing intimidating about her big brown eyes or her always-running wet nose. We welcomed her into our home. And within a few weeks, Ramona helped us make it official. We adopted her.
The joy we experienced as Susie became a part of our family was short-lived when we heard that under North Carolina animal cruelty laws, Susie's attacker wouldn't receive jail time. I was disgusted. What type of message did this send to other abusers? Attorneys shook their heads and apologized, but their hands were tied and nothing could legally be done. The injustice fueled a passion in me that I had never felt before. I refused to let Susie's story be swept under the rug. With Susie by my side, I rallied friends, family and anyone who would listen and began a grassroots effort to tell others what had happened months earlier. Our team quickly grew from a handful of animal advocates to thousands. Within weeks, our humble Facebook page had 24,000 followers. We spoke at rallies, local events and inundated our communities with Susie's story.
Our hard work paid off. After long meetings with our local representatives, they agreed to speak on our behalf. Our state legislators decided that anyone who tortures, starves or kills an animal would face jail time. In North Carolina, the malicious abuse of animals would be deemed a Class H felony, punishable by up to ten years of prison, even for first-time offenders.
On June 23, 2010 I woke up with a spring in my step and whispered to Susie, "Today is the day."
We traveled to our state capital. Susie enjoyed the car ride with her nail polished paws on the door and head hanging out the window. I watched her from the corner of my eye as I steered. She was a far cry from the scared puppy who been beaten, burned and left for dead. When we arrived, I smiled at our governor as she approached, but before I could shake her hand, she wrapped her arms around my neck and whispered "Thank you." But it was I who was thankful that day. Thankful for a little burned puppy that had the will to survive and who change my life — not to mention other lives in the years to come.
In the weeks following, Ramona was chosen to foster the four-month-old puppy until a permanent home could be found. The courageous dog had been named Susie and had already endured a number of surgeries. Susie needed around-the-clock medical care. Ramona was scheduled to go out of town one weekend so I volunteered to bring Susie home and care for her. When I walked in the door, my husband Roy looked skeptical.
"It's a Pit Bull. Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.
His concern was legitimate. A year earlier I had been attacked by a Pit Bull and Roy knew I still had nightmares from the incident. A family in our neighborhood had moved, leaving behind their dog chained up with no food or water. I was appalled and was trying to find the animal a home. Every evening I filled up its empty food and water bowls. But on this particular day I turned around and the dog clenched down on my calf. He shook his head back and forth, gnawing into my skin. His strength knocked me to the ground where he let go of my leg and began biting my neck. I could see the blood pouring onto the ground beside me. With all my might I pushed the animal off with both of my hands and began running. Doctors would later tell me I was lucky to be alive. I endured forty stitches and was unable to walk for six weeks.
But Susie was different. There was nothing intimidating about her big brown eyes or her always-running wet nose. We welcomed her into our home. And within a few weeks, Ramona helped us make it official. We adopted her.
The joy we experienced as Susie became a part of our family was short-lived when we heard that under North Carolina animal cruelty laws, Susie's attacker wouldn't receive jail time. I was disgusted. What type of message did this send to other abusers? Attorneys shook their heads and apologized, but their hands were tied and nothing could legally be done. The injustice fueled a passion in me that I had never felt before. I refused to let Susie's story be swept under the rug. With Susie by my side, I rallied friends, family and anyone who would listen and began a grassroots effort to tell others what had happened months earlier. Our team quickly grew from a handful of animal advocates to thousands. Within weeks, our humble Facebook page had 24,000 followers. We spoke at rallies, local events and inundated our communities with Susie's story.
Our hard work paid off. After long meetings with our local representatives, they agreed to speak on our behalf. Our state legislators decided that anyone who tortures, starves or kills an animal would face jail time. In North Carolina, the malicious abuse of animals would be deemed a Class H felony, punishable by up to ten years of prison, even for first-time offenders.
On June 23, 2010 I woke up with a spring in my step and whispered to Susie, "Today is the day."
We traveled to our state capital. Susie enjoyed the car ride with her nail polished paws on the door and head hanging out the window. I watched her from the corner of my eye as I steered. She was a far cry from the scared puppy who been beaten, burned and left for dead. When we arrived, I smiled at our governor as she approached, but before I could shake her hand, she wrapped her arms around my neck and whispered "Thank you." But it was I who was thankful that day. Thankful for a little burned puppy that had the will to survive and who change my life — not to mention other lives in the years to come.
http://www.chickensoup.com
Комментариев нет:
Отправить комментарий