Save Flea, the former bait dog!

On July 3rd, at 10:30pm, I was almost home (and looking forward to bed). That's when I saw what I thought was an old dog trundling along the sidewalk. I took my dog home and went back out to find the old guy.

He'd turned a corner and was walking down the middle of a busier street, thankfully empty at that time of night. I put on my flashers, grabbed a bag of Doritos (I'd just run out of dog treats), and stepped into the road.

He didn't run away; that was a good sign. No collar; a bad sign. I sidled closer to him, tossing him Doritos (he ate one, left the others -- apparently Cool Ranch isn't his thing). When I got close enough, I could see he was riddled with scars and wounds. He kept flashing me the whites of his eyes, head and tail low; "You're stressing me out, lady. I'm not afraid of you, but I don't trust you, either. Keep your distance. I'm insecure." Like us, dogs under stress don't make great decisions. I was able to carefully loop a leash around his neck, then stand up and encourage him along. He came willingly enough, as long as I didn't stare at him or otherwise seem threatening. Putting him in the car wasn't going to happen without lifting him -- he flat out refused to get in, despite my many tricks to get him in -- and I wasn't stupid enough to try that! Since we were only half a mile from my house, I decided I'd drive the car back at his pace, holding onto his leash with my arm out the window.

During the initial capture and getting to my house, we passed one civilian car, an ambulance, and a cop. No one asked what I was doing with this dog and this highly illegal maneuver! Maybe my crawling speed let them know I wasn't up to nefarious deeds.

Once home in my yard, under more light, I could see he'd recently been used as a bait dog. His face and head were riddled with cuts and puncture wounds from another dog, and there were open sores near his tail and huge, flapping pieces of skin -- growths, I thought -- on various parts of his body. There were other spots that I couldn't tell if they were open wounds or calluses, but I'd seen enough. He growled when I came too close (5-7 feet away) as I brought him bowls with food and water, and then a bed. Each time I spoke soothingly and didn't look at him. I know that dogs used as bait dogs, already growling at people, don't have much chance. I figured I'd keep him warm, comfortable, and fed, and when the shelter opened on the 5th (they'd be closed for the 4th of July), I'd take him in to be put down.

The 4th dawned bright and clear. I went out to see my current resident, who gave me the same white-eyed frightened look. In daylight, he was in both better shape and worse shape. Better, because the growths were just that -- growths, not wounds -- and some of what had looked like raw spots were calluses or more growths, worse because he had such a severe flea infestation I could see them crawling on him from ten feet away. I don't know about you, but fleas give me the heeby jeebies!

He hadn't eaten, so I got a bowl with a bit of canned food and some metacam for what I guessed was his likely weight, and put the bowl down. Then I sat nearby, holding a bottle of Advantix, because if I could dose him with flea meds I TOTALLY WAS GOING TO EW EW EW.

He allowed it while he ate, amazingly, as long as I didn't look at him, and as long as I only did a few drops at a time. Once he was done eating, he decided we were BFFs. He tried to crawl into my lap, enthusiastically wagging and licking my face. It would have been cute if I hadn't been thinking about how grimy and flea-infested he was!

Over the course of the day, he turned into a love. He wanted to play, despite his heavy limp. He let me bathe him, scrubbing his wounds until they bled cleanly and until the flea bodies detached from his raw skin and could be washed away. (Since I was washing away the Advantix, I gave him an oral flea med!) He let me check his teeth and ears (one of them twisted with scar tissue). He asked to have his belly rubbed, and offered a paw to shake.  I named him Flea.

I don't believe Flea is a lost cause. I could be wrong. I could get three days or ten days or thirty days into rehabilitating him, and realize that his trauma has left him unpredictably aggressive.  What I do know is that the only way for the shelter to pay for his medical care is for me to surrender him, where he will immediately fail his temperament test and be put down. Maybe that will be the end result anyway, but I want to give him the chance to live. To have a human companion and see that people are safe and loving. To find a home of his own.

I can't afford to do it alone, though. I'll need financial help first and foremost for medical care; he's limping badly, he needs antibiotics, he needs at least one of those growths to be removed and more of them to be biopsied, he needs to be neutered. Everything will require sedation until he's father along in his rehab and trusts people other than me. (He's met Margo and Quin, and after an initial chilliness liked them both, so I have great hopes there.)

I'll also need financial help to replace items he'll doubtless destroy before he knows better, possibly hospital care for myself if things go unexpectedly sideways, help with more dog beds and probably toys and God only knows what else.

The $2500 is my best guess to start the process of medical treatment, so I can start the process of rehabilitating him, re-homing him, and giving him a better life. If I am unable to rehabilitate him, I'll refund any money in the account that hasn't been used.

Someday soon, I'll ask for your help again. He'll need a forever home of his own, with people who understand his trauma and can continue to offer him support. I'm the way station so he can recover, but someone else will be his family.

This is a hope. It's an offer of love. Of healing. Of recovering from trauma. Of blessing the sweet side of him and giving him a chance to bring that out. Of showing him that life isn't all abuse and fighting and sleeping on concrete outside. If you are able to help with $5 or $10 or $500, to help by sharing this so others may help as well, Flea and I would be forever grateful.  All any of us want is a chance at love. I want to give him that chance, and with your help, I might just be able to.