by Nancy Gallimore
The image came to me rapid-fire from various sources, as often happens when there is a Dalmatian in need.
Photo courtesy of Friends of Macon County Missouri Animals.
This dog was a seven-month-old puppy in a small town in northern Missouri — a bit outside the normal range of my Oklahoma-based Dalmatian rescue. When I clicked the link for a closer look at the post about this puppy, my heart felt a rush of sorrow and anger in one big, knotted jumble, the miles turning into counting precious minutes until I could offer help.
It wasn’t a photo of pleading brown eyes. In fact, the young Dalmatian’s face wasn’t even visible. The angle of the photo was straight down on the dog’s back, and you certainly didn’t need a degree in veterinary medicine to know this was a desperate situation.
The pup’s head was lowered, perhaps eating some food that had been dropped on the ground for him. A sturdy chain was stretched tautly from his collar to some fixed spot out of frame. The dog stood on dirt; any blades of grass had long worn away from the back-and-forth wear of his paws. The leaves that had once provided him with some sort of canopy now lay damp, brown, and scattered at his feet.
A bare plastic doghouse was visible in the corner of the photograph, although it didn’t appear the dog’s chain would allow him to reach even that limited sanctuary. But it wasn’t the living conditions that held my eyes riveted. It was the physical condition of the dog.
Ribs that should have had a healthy covering of puppy fat protruded like the tines of a rake with a thin blanket of spotted fabric stretched across them. The knobby
surface of his spine was punctuated by protruding hip bones on either side of the base of his drooping tail. Legs that should have been blooming with strong muscles were slack and appeared frail.
This young dog was clearly running on empty and running out of time, especially with the promise of cold weather approaching. And most infuriating was the fact that he was on a property with an owner living comfortably in a nearby home. An adorable puppy left chained, alone, and desperate since the moment he had left the safety of his mother’s side just months before.
I reached out immediately, promising a place for this forgotten puppy in my rescue and in my home. My partner Jim and I
could easily offer him all the things his neglectful owner couldn’t be bothered to provide. He needed a thorough exam by a veterinarian, several good meals a day, a soft bed, a safe yard for exercise, and plenty of loving attention. We were ready to put a checkmark beside each item on that list.
Thanks to the persistence of Leesa King and other volunteers with an organization called Friends of Macon County Missouri Animals, local authorities were made aware of the puppy’s plight and required the owner to surrender the dog to animal control. Then, through the magic of the Internet and wonderful volunteer drivers, the Dalmatian Assistance League, Inc., of Tulsa welcomed the new dog into foster care. The pup, who would be known as Rudy, was off the chain and headed toward the promise of a much better life.
Starting Rudy’s Next Chapters
You might think this would be the end of Rudy’s rescue story. He was no longer alone on a chain. He would gain weight. He would get healthy. He would be placed in a wonderful home. Well, for a dog who had lived his entire young life on a chain, there needed to be a few more chapters added to that tale.
When Rudy arrived at our home, he was justifiably confused and nervous. After introductions with our other dogs, we let him explore our house. But his behavior was unlike past dogs being initiated into the routine of our home. It was as if he had no concept of how to behave if not restricted by a chain secured to his collar.
He paced our home for hours. He bounced from one end of the house to the other in an awkward, clumsy gait. His frenetic energy didn’t appear to be born of fear or anxiety, but rather because he seemed to have no idea how to stop once he got started.
As we watched him, it was clear this seven-month-old puppy didn’t have the ability to move properly. Because he had been restricted at such a young age, he never developed the muscles and flexibility that allow Dalmatians their trademark flowing gait.
Rudy moved about like a gangly, hoursold colt struggling to control long, uncoordinated legs. At his age, he should have been able to zoom athletically through our house and yard. Instead, he flailed about awkwardly, even stumbling into furniture and other dogs. Watching him, you might have thought we lived on a rolling houseboat instead of a home with a stable foundation.
When we offered him his first small meal, he grabbed frantically at the food, chasing the kibble around the bowl with open, hungry jaws. Rudy was so ravenous that his mind and mouth couldn’t seem to coordinate the effort. We hand-fed his first few meals to help him slow down, allowing
little mouthfuls for him to chew. Each meal was met with panicky enthusiasm. It was clear he was surprised to receive food at such regular intervals.
As we continued to get to know our new charge, I realized he didn’t respond to the sound of my voice. Initially I thought he might be hearing impaired, a condition that can affect approximately one in 20 Dalmatians to some degree. But Rudy was not deaf — he simply didn’t assign any meaning to the tones of the human voice.
Normally, dogs respond to the higher-pitched sound of praise, the deeper sound of instruction, murmurs of affection, or the laughter that comes with play. To Rudy, however, none of it had any appeal. This puppy had apparently never had anyone talk to him enough to allow him to form a fledgling understanding of human-to-dog communication.
I think this realization is the one that bruised my heart the most. We could fix skinny. We could help him get proper exercise. We could make sure he received four meals a day on the road to recovery. But we could never replace his carefree puppy days. We couldn’t give Rudy the experience of being a treasured eight-week-old
puppy heading off to a loving family. He was completely robbed of that important experience.
Unchaining Rudy’s Brain
We could, however, make up for lost time, something Jim and I are very adept at, having fostered hundreds of dogs over the course of 30 years. So we went to work to unchain Rudy’s brain now that his body was free.
First, Rudy needed to learn all the normal skills that puppies are typically taught from eight to 16 weeks. There was crate training, leash walking, house-training, and just simple play. Rudy didn’t understand toys or how to play with others of his kind. But he had good teachers not only in us, but also in our dogs, and class was immediately in session.
Initially, Rudy was wary of going out into our yard. I expected to see him race around with joy at his newfound freedom. Instead, he stood on the porch or near my legs every moment in the yard. He was unwilling to explore and continually bolted back into the sanctuary of our house.
I could almost hear the dialogue inside his young mind. “House is good. Outside is bad,” he must have been thinking through the images in his brain. “I only want to be inside.”
Although I can’t say I blamed him for not wanting to chance being left outside, his unwillingness to initially spend any time in the yard made teaching house-training skills a challenge. The first time Rudy ran several paces past me to squat in the yard to relieve himself might have also been the first time he paid attention to my voice. I rained excited, happy praise on that sweet puppy, and his head swiveled toward me with ears perked, his tail wagging in delight.
It seemed from that point on, Rudy learned how to be a puppy with ease. He discovered toys. He joined in wrestling matches with his canine counterparts. Meals became an expected treat. He would dance in tight circles all the way to his crate, where he would wait in drooling anticipation to be served. Most important, he learned that a silly, high-pitched human voice offered the promise of good things to come.
I’ve never understood how people can sentence a dog to the torture of life on a chain, and I never will. I know it is the fate of many dogs across the country and in our own community. There are specific organizations that work relentlessly to improve the lives of chained dogs. I’ve had the opportunity to ride along with the volunteers of the Oklahoma Alliance for Animals Unchain Oklahoma program to witness their dedication, patience, and compassion firsthand as they visit owners of chained dogs to offer life-changing alternatives.
Without the backing of strict legislation and subsequent enforcement, turning the tide for chained dogs can happen only one dog at a time. Now, watching our one dog race effortlessly out the door to join in a wild game of chase in our yard, I am grateful to everyone involved in securing his freedom. I know Rudy’s future will be nothing but soft beds, regular meals, a safe yard, loving new owners — their application was just approved today — and silly, high-pitched voices that finally have great meaning for him.
