I want to tell you a story. I am part of it, and we need help.

On Tuesday last week, in a deep rural Texas town down the road from me—a call came in to the Animal Control Officer (ACO). A small blue heeler (aka “cattle dog”) was “run over, and crunched in pain.” She was limp, huddled next to an air-conditioning unit, her back split open in a U shape. Five puppies still in their birth sacs, lay around her, all dead.

No one “saw anything.” No one “heard anything.” The ACO officer, doing his job, lifted her broken body into his truck and brought her to the pound.

In rural towns all over Texas, every day, dogs are discarded, abused, starving, abandoned, searching dumpsters for food, nursing babies under sheds; literally, fighting for their lives. Most of those dogs never get rescued, and most of their stories are heard only in the dust, swirling silently in the brutal Texas winds.

Omar, the Animal Control Officer, called her 'Glow.' This time, like many in the past, Omar pleaded with his bosses to let him take her to the vet. This time, they said yes. The city does not have a budget to ‘fix’ severely hurt pound dogs. It's cheaper to euthanize them. But as he does, Omar fought for her, begged for her. 

Glow’s laceration was filled with maggots; her skin was rotting-- she’d been like this for days before being found. An X-ray showed one last deceased puppy still in her uterus. Her body was shutting down. Without anyone thinking about cost, she was prepped for surgery.  The vet who always tries to help Omar, aborted the one remaining dead pup, pulled back Glow’s skin, flushed it out, cleaned it out, grated it, cut off dead skin, put in a drain, and stapled her back together. 

 

In a desperate plea, Omar texted me. The pound can not care for this girl. He needed someone immediately who could foster her for a few weeks; he had no place for her to go. He wanted to save her. He wanted to make sure she might get adopted, make sure she would have a better life.

 

A rural city dog pound is a place where lost dogs, 'strays', are held for a short wait. If no one comes, they are euthanized to make room for more. This is reality in South Texas. Omar’s city pound is one of THOUSANDS just like it across the nation; his pound, is a concrete slab with eight open air cells, tucked behind the water treatment plant with a fence around it. A corrugated tin roof shades the dogs from the 100 degree sun, or the torrential rain.  

There are no visitors here, no administrative buildings, no campus.  Just lost dogs, sharing cages, hoping for a miracle.  Omar keeps the cells as clean as he can. The dogs have water, and because of Omar, treats and chew bones, and love.  The city pound is not a shelter, there is not much hope for pound puppies.  

 

Yesterday, I met Glow.  I sat crosslegged on the floor as she entered the room; my heart shattered into a million pieces.  A small demure cattle dog with sweet soul-searching eyes slowly walked through the door. Her back was stapled, her insides showing, dead skin still sloughing off, and a drain hanging out her side. She didn’t flinch, she didn’t growl; she came right to me, buried her face in my hands and chest and pushed in as close as she could. I kissed her face, fighting tears. We’ll never know what she endured, but we all know, no dog deserves this. NO DOG deserves this.

As Omar and I sat in the room with Glow, to my surprise, tears filled his eyes.

“I’m using the last $500 I have for the dogs on her. I don’t even know if it will cover the cost.” His voice faltered off. 

 

“Why did you name her Glow?”  I asked.  

His lip quivered, and his big brown eyes looked away, “Because I know, behind all the sadness and hurt her face shows me, that there will be a glow one day.”

 

And that was it for me.

My instinct kicked in. To help. To help Glow and the other dogs that will end up with the same fate.

So now my plea to you: I am asking YOU all for your HELP—for Glow, and for Omar.  I’d like to replenish Omar’s $500, to help cover Glow's costs.  We know there will be more cost to Glow’s recovery, and rescue, but right now, can we raise $500?

Glow is presently still in the hospital. They are keeping her until her wounds are stable. Upon release, she's going to need an army of us helping her--and we are here, waiting. So, Every cent matters—whether it’s $5, or $50—not just for Glow, but for all the future dogs who find themselves in Omar’s pound. He is their one angel.

 

Glow will have that Glow again….she now, because of Omar and because of you, has a future.  We are making a plan for her, she’s going to know a better life. That’s a promise. 

I’ve donated the first $20! Every cent above and beyond the $500 will go to Glow's vet care, and Omar's credit at the vet.

Thank you all!