Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Saturday, June 6, 2009
What Will It Take to Put Sexual Predators Away for Good?
Well, I'm going in a totally different direction with this post, but I just have to get this off my chest. I've been watching Nancy Grace regularly lately and she most often does stories on murdered children. Many of those children are killed by sexual predators with previous convictions for child molestation, rape, and other terrible crimes against children and young men and women. I personally had a hand in putting two such low-lifes away for a very long time after they had befriended my youngest daughter when she was only 14 yrs. old. Believe it or not, this was a boyfriend and girlfriend living together in our neighborhood, both convicted of sexual crimes against children. They met after their crimes and convictions. Because they had been in the company of my daughter and other young kids in the neighborhood, they went back to prison due to parole violations. I do not know the details of the boyfriend's crimes, but I do know the details of the girlfriend's crimes. I will not even mention it here because it is truly sickening. However, she was only 19 years old. My purpose here is not to shock you but to inform you of what I know to be true.
You cannot rehabilitate a pedophile or rapist. They can no more change their urges as they can change the color of their eyes, their sex, or sexual orientation. You are who you are. Yet, time and time again, these deviants get prison time, sometimes a ridiculously short sentence, and then they're back out into OUR world where they are expected to suddenly become good citizens. Prison does not deter these people. Their lives revolve around their compulsions and urges and prison cannot erase that. Why then, are we allowing these people back into society, only to hear over and over again that they have re-offended? Whether it's a child predator or a serial rapist who preys on woman, even men, they are not likely to straighten up once released from prison and keep their needs in check.
Unfortunately, these predators often go back to preying on their victims of choice and the longer they get away with it, the better the chance that they will escalate to more violence up to and including murder. There are too many families across the United States who have lost loved ones to repeat offenders who should never have been out on the streets in the first place.
Something has to be done, and it has to be done now. Anyone who has molested a child should never get a second chance. They made a conscious choice to harm a child in the worst way, therefore they have forfeited, in my mind, their future. They should never be allowed to see freedom again to the end of their days. Someone who rapes anyone of any age should also never know freedom again. I'm talking about a very specific group of criminals. I'm talking about predators, those who seek out victims. This particular group is what we all need to be aware of every moment of every day. We cannot go through life paranoid and frightened, but we can be more vigilant about our surroundings and cautious about those who gravitate toward our own children. Make no mistake, some of these people can be within your own family or a trusted neighbor. Sexual predators are not exclusively male, either.
As I stated in the beginning, I have first-hand experience with this issue. My daughter was "befriended" by a male and female sexual predator who ignored the conditions of their parole by hanging around kids 14 and under. I'm convinced it was only a matter of time before they would have claimed a new victim, or several. Who knows what they would have done then. Thankfully, they went away to prison before they could bring any harm to my daughter or another person's child.
We've got to stop kidding ourselves. Sexual predators cannot be "cured" of their obsessions and urges. Given the chance, if opportunity presents itself, they will re-offend. It's not a matter of IF, it's a matter of WHEN. Will it be you next? Or your best friend? Or your mother? Or your child?
ARE YOU WILLING TO TAKE THAT CHANCE? I'M NOT.
You cannot rehabilitate a pedophile or rapist. They can no more change their urges as they can change the color of their eyes, their sex, or sexual orientation. You are who you are. Yet, time and time again, these deviants get prison time, sometimes a ridiculously short sentence, and then they're back out into OUR world where they are expected to suddenly become good citizens. Prison does not deter these people. Their lives revolve around their compulsions and urges and prison cannot erase that. Why then, are we allowing these people back into society, only to hear over and over again that they have re-offended? Whether it's a child predator or a serial rapist who preys on woman, even men, they are not likely to straighten up once released from prison and keep their needs in check.
Unfortunately, these predators often go back to preying on their victims of choice and the longer they get away with it, the better the chance that they will escalate to more violence up to and including murder. There are too many families across the United States who have lost loved ones to repeat offenders who should never have been out on the streets in the first place.
Something has to be done, and it has to be done now. Anyone who has molested a child should never get a second chance. They made a conscious choice to harm a child in the worst way, therefore they have forfeited, in my mind, their future. They should never be allowed to see freedom again to the end of their days. Someone who rapes anyone of any age should also never know freedom again. I'm talking about a very specific group of criminals. I'm talking about predators, those who seek out victims. This particular group is what we all need to be aware of every moment of every day. We cannot go through life paranoid and frightened, but we can be more vigilant about our surroundings and cautious about those who gravitate toward our own children. Make no mistake, some of these people can be within your own family or a trusted neighbor. Sexual predators are not exclusively male, either.
As I stated in the beginning, I have first-hand experience with this issue. My daughter was "befriended" by a male and female sexual predator who ignored the conditions of their parole by hanging around kids 14 and under. I'm convinced it was only a matter of time before they would have claimed a new victim, or several. Who knows what they would have done then. Thankfully, they went away to prison before they could bring any harm to my daughter or another person's child.
We've got to stop kidding ourselves. Sexual predators cannot be "cured" of their obsessions and urges. Given the chance, if opportunity presents itself, they will re-offend. It's not a matter of IF, it's a matter of WHEN. Will it be you next? Or your best friend? Or your mother? Or your child?
ARE YOU WILLING TO TAKE THAT CHANCE? I'M NOT.
Friday, June 5, 2009
A Dog Story
I thought why not tell everyone about my dogs in my first blog. I want to focus on them in light of the recent circumstances that almost took the life of one of them. They each have a story and they each have worth beyond dollars, beyond words. In my next blogs I'll talk about my other furry family members, two sugar gliders and one hedgehog. I haven't had them for very long, but they're just as much a part of the family as my beloved dogs. For now, however, I'd like to relate how each of my three dogs found their way into my life and how they have made my life richer in many ways.
I have three dogs. The first dog I will talk about is Bailey, my 15 yr. old beagle. I'm not sure about her exact age, but I was told she was 4 to 5 yrs. old when I adopted her in 1999. I was acquainted with a local police officer who had found Bailey about a year prior, walking along a highway, emaciated and sick. He took her in, nursed her back to health, and provided her a loving home. Unfortunately, in 1999, he was moving as a result of getting a position with another police department and could not bring Bailey with him to his new home. He brought Bailey to my house and asked if I could find a home for her. My immediate answer was "yes", and I took her in. Well, Bailey won my heart right away and I found her a home rather quickly...my home. She was a bubbly, playful dog with a heart of gold. My daughters and I would play with her, rubbing her belly, play fighting with her, and she would give out the most ear piercing barks. She would growl, too, which we first thought was not a good sign. Initially I thought she was going to get mad and bite one of us, but we later found her growling and barking and even nipping at us was all in play. She has been the sweetest dog I've ever had. I had my yorkie/poodle mix, Oreo, at the time and they got along great and became fast friends. Over the next 2 to 3 years I had taken in another dog from the veterinary clinic where I worked, but he turned out to have serious aggression issues and attacked a neighbor girl. He also was not fixed, and neither was Bailey, so I ended up with a litter of puppies. I was able to find great homes for all the puppies and had Bailey fixed after that. The other dog I had to give up after trying different methods to change his passive aggressive behavior.
The years passed and Oreo and Bailey were my babies. In 2005, Oreo's health quickly deteriorated. He was 10 yrs. old and already had congestive heart failure, seizures, and was going blind. It was terrible and sad to watch his fast decline. He had been such a wonderful dog, growing up with my daughters, with a spunk and attitude so common among small dogs who have no idea how small they are. He came with us from Alaska when we moved to Missouri in 1997. Bailey was also getting older, about 10-11 yrs. old herself, and I felt that once Oreo passed away she would be lonely and not as active without another dog to play with.
In the summer of 2005, I answered an ad in the paper for dachshund puppies for sale. I decided to go check them out, knowing full well that once I saw them I'd probably be going home with one. I walked into the back yard to see a small corral of puppies, the sides low enough to reach in and pick them up. There were several puppies, at least 6 or 7 that I remember. I picked up each one and held them in my arms, then placed them back in the pen. They then headed to the other side where the owner was standing and I called to them to come back to me. Only one puppy turned around and ran directly to me. That was the one I took home. I tell everyone that he picked me, I didn't pick him. My oldest daughter insisted on naming him Scooter. Scooter turned out to be VERY difficult to potty train, but his personality won me over and I learned to deal with his shortcomings. It literally took a good 3 yrs. to completely house train him. If he saw an opportunity, if no one was watching, he'd just go in the house. Now, thankfully, he is very vocal about when he wants to go outside to potty and I keep him kenneled at night to prevent any temptation to go while everyone is sleeping.
Sadly, exactly one week before Christmas of 2005, Oreo passed away at home. My girls and I were so heartbroken over the loss. I had him cremated and have his ashes with me today. Even now I sometimes call Scooter "Oreo". Their personalities are so similar that for a moment I forget that Oreo is gone and his name comes to mind without any thought. He is still deeply missed.
In February of 2006, we had a house fire and lost almost everything. I was at work in Kansas City, about 40 miles away from home, when my oldest daughter, Dejah, called me to say the house was on fire. I was an armed security officer at a grocery store which contracted with the company I worked for. I got on my radio and told my superior that I had to leave my post because my house was on fire and I was out of there. The whole drive home I cried so hard it's a miracle I could see well enough to drive. I arrived to find firetrucks surrounding my house and my girls huddled under fire blankets in the yard. It was a very cold night. The girls all got out safely and got the animals out, as well. I had several doves at the time, and they sat in the yard in their cage, apparently not too upset about their ordeal. But the big question was: What Now? We could not remain in the home and found ourselves suddenly needing a place to stay and a place for the animals.
My then future son-in-law's mother took in the doves and she still has them to this day. The dogs, however, had to be boarded at a veterinary clinic for nearly a month. I tried to see them every few days between work and trying to find a new home for myself and the girls. We were all staying at different homes, so we tried to see each other every Sunday. Poor Scooter lost so much weight from the stress of being at the kennel for so long but Bailey seemed to be handling it okay.
Thankfully, by the end of March, I found a mobile home in the neighboring town which incidentally meant the girls would be much closer to their school, so it all worked out well in the end. I bought the home for very little money, it needed lots of work, but it was ours and there was no issue as to whether we could bring the dogs with us. I was not going to move anywhere if it meant giving up the dogs. We received a tremendous amount of help and support from the community and the school, making our transition much easier to bear. Before long we were all under one roof again and resumed life as usual. Scooter quickly put the weight back on and both he and Bailey were happy to be back with their family.
As we were moving in to the new place, and while it was raining steadily the 2 or 3 days we were going back and forth bringing in our belongings, a black dog began to come into the yard and watch us. He kept his distance, not quite sure what to think of us, but eventually he moved closer and closer as we patiently called to him and extended a hand in friendship. Before long he came into the house and let his guard down, allowing us to give him belly rubs and to scratch behind his ears. He was a strange-looking yet oddly cute dog.
Once we were settled and over the next few weeks, I realized that this strange black dog belonged to the next door neighbors. They just let him run about the neighborhood day and night. I talked to his owners who said they never let him in the house and they would tell the park manager he wasn't their dog. He continued to come over and visit us and I decided to take a vote. I asked my girls if they would be willing to adopt this poor dog who needed a home and lots of love. It was a majority vote (one of my girls thought it was just one too many dogs) and so I went to the neighbor to ask if I could adopt their dog. His name, I found out, was Bruiser, and they'd had him for about 2 yrs. They made it clear they didn't like him and he was just a nuisance to them. They had no problem giving him up. So, from then on Bruiser became dog number 3 in our little household. It was obvious that Bruiser was a loving dog who craved love back so badly. He had been treated with disdain and made to run loose throughout the neighborhood and never allowed into the warmth and comfort of his home. Truly, he really didn't have a home until we took him in.
Bruiser is an aggressive dog toward some people if he gets loose, so I have to be very careful to ensure he does not dart out the door. He and Scooter both will look for any opportunity to run amuck if they see the chance. I've had several occasions when I had to go retrieve them when either someone stood by the front door, leaving a nice gap for them to slip through, or because Bruiser found the back door didn't always catch properly. He knew just a little push and he was out the door. He's one smart dog! Bruiser is not a dog that barks very much. He sometimes would bark at passers-by as many dogs do, but never in a vicious way...until one of his former owners passed by. I could be in the house, not having any idea who might be passing the house, Bruiser barking occasionally at kids and other dogs. Then his bark would change. It would become vicious and he would throw himself against the fence with such fervor that I would know instantly who was walking past the house. I'd take a look, and surely enough, whether it was the husband or wife, Bruiser wanted a piece of them. He knows the difference between the good and the bad, and now for the past 3 yrs. he's learned what love really is.
Ironically, about a year ago my girls and I actually moved next door to the home where Bruiser's previous owners had lived after it was apparent that my place was going to be too costly to fix. There were so many issues and we needed a better place to live in. They moved out, we moved in. Thankfully the old neighbors moved right out of the neighborhood, too.
Now Bailey is slowing down, having more difficulty getting her footing when she gets up from a nap and seems to have less control over her bowels as she has had several mishaps on the way to go outside and sometimes right after coming back inside. Thankfully I have a really good steam cleaner, but I realize that she is declining a little more every day. She is also losing her sight. She still eats well and sometimes has her playful moments, but I know I have to prepare for the inevitable. I'm just hoping that she still has another couple of decent years left in her. Losing her will be so hard for all of us, just as painful as it was losing Oreo. She has been part of our family for so long and she is so deeply loved and adored. She is especially close to my 20 yr. old daughter, Syan, who is now in the Air Force at Lackland AFB. Sometimes Syan actually talks to her on the phone and I swear Bailey is listening! Syan will be able to come home on leave in a couple of months and I know Bailey will be so excited. Maybe it will be enough to give her that extra burst she needs to keep going. I know she misses Syan immensely. Syan had been hospitalized a few years ago for five days and when she finally came back home Bailey was beside herself, running around, trying to "talk", so excited she couldn't even bark!
While I've been worrying so much about Bailey as she is getting older, I never realized that Scooter, now 4 yrs. old, would be in the fight of his life just a few weeks ago. Many of my twitter followers know his story and thanks to so many wonderful people I was able to raise donations to help pay for his rising vet bill. Scooter had chewed up and swallowed several pieces of a nylon collar. One of those pieces unraveled in his intestines and as the intestines expanded and contracted, that piece cut into his intestines over and over, causing severe, life-threatening damage. Scooter remained at the veterinary clinic for 14 days and had two major surgeries to repair his damaged intestines. More than 12" of intestine was removed, as well. He refused to eat while at the vet's and chewed out several IV's. He also chewed up at least five collars put on him to prevent him from chewing out the IV's. He was obviously stressed and depressed. Eventually, he had to be force-fed with pureed dog food as he whithered away. I visited him every day and stayed with him as he awoke from his surgeries. I tried to coax him with boiled chicken, but he refused to eat for me, too. Finally, his vet let me take him home the Friday before Memorial Day, though he was very worried about Scooter's refusal to eat. He was skeptical that he would start to eat once he was back at home, thinking that there may still be something in his intestines he overlooked. Miraculously, Scooter did eat that first day home, very little at first, but he ate willingly. I had picked up some canned chicken and rice ground dog food, and he took to it immediately. Over the next few days his appetite increased and he became more active. His vet said he's a "miracle dog". Scooter was not expected to survive his ordeal, but because of the skill and compassion of his veterinarian and my love for him, he pulled through and is now doing remarkable. He is still healing, but he's almost as good as new.
I hope you've found the story of my dogs' lives and how they came to be a part of my family interesting and heartwarming. They have all gone through trauma in their lives but they know they have a loving family who is there for them no matter what. Their trauma is my trauma. And this is their forever home.
I have three dogs. The first dog I will talk about is Bailey, my 15 yr. old beagle. I'm not sure about her exact age, but I was told she was 4 to 5 yrs. old when I adopted her in 1999. I was acquainted with a local police officer who had found Bailey about a year prior, walking along a highway, emaciated and sick. He took her in, nursed her back to health, and provided her a loving home. Unfortunately, in 1999, he was moving as a result of getting a position with another police department and could not bring Bailey with him to his new home. He brought Bailey to my house and asked if I could find a home for her. My immediate answer was "yes", and I took her in. Well, Bailey won my heart right away and I found her a home rather quickly...my home. She was a bubbly, playful dog with a heart of gold. My daughters and I would play with her, rubbing her belly, play fighting with her, and she would give out the most ear piercing barks. She would growl, too, which we first thought was not a good sign. Initially I thought she was going to get mad and bite one of us, but we later found her growling and barking and even nipping at us was all in play. She has been the sweetest dog I've ever had. I had my yorkie/poodle mix, Oreo, at the time and they got along great and became fast friends. Over the next 2 to 3 years I had taken in another dog from the veterinary clinic where I worked, but he turned out to have serious aggression issues and attacked a neighbor girl. He also was not fixed, and neither was Bailey, so I ended up with a litter of puppies. I was able to find great homes for all the puppies and had Bailey fixed after that. The other dog I had to give up after trying different methods to change his passive aggressive behavior.
The years passed and Oreo and Bailey were my babies. In 2005, Oreo's health quickly deteriorated. He was 10 yrs. old and already had congestive heart failure, seizures, and was going blind. It was terrible and sad to watch his fast decline. He had been such a wonderful dog, growing up with my daughters, with a spunk and attitude so common among small dogs who have no idea how small they are. He came with us from Alaska when we moved to Missouri in 1997. Bailey was also getting older, about 10-11 yrs. old herself, and I felt that once Oreo passed away she would be lonely and not as active without another dog to play with.
In the summer of 2005, I answered an ad in the paper for dachshund puppies for sale. I decided to go check them out, knowing full well that once I saw them I'd probably be going home with one. I walked into the back yard to see a small corral of puppies, the sides low enough to reach in and pick them up. There were several puppies, at least 6 or 7 that I remember. I picked up each one and held them in my arms, then placed them back in the pen. They then headed to the other side where the owner was standing and I called to them to come back to me. Only one puppy turned around and ran directly to me. That was the one I took home. I tell everyone that he picked me, I didn't pick him. My oldest daughter insisted on naming him Scooter. Scooter turned out to be VERY difficult to potty train, but his personality won me over and I learned to deal with his shortcomings. It literally took a good 3 yrs. to completely house train him. If he saw an opportunity, if no one was watching, he'd just go in the house. Now, thankfully, he is very vocal about when he wants to go outside to potty and I keep him kenneled at night to prevent any temptation to go while everyone is sleeping.
Sadly, exactly one week before Christmas of 2005, Oreo passed away at home. My girls and I were so heartbroken over the loss. I had him cremated and have his ashes with me today. Even now I sometimes call Scooter "Oreo". Their personalities are so similar that for a moment I forget that Oreo is gone and his name comes to mind without any thought. He is still deeply missed.
In February of 2006, we had a house fire and lost almost everything. I was at work in Kansas City, about 40 miles away from home, when my oldest daughter, Dejah, called me to say the house was on fire. I was an armed security officer at a grocery store which contracted with the company I worked for. I got on my radio and told my superior that I had to leave my post because my house was on fire and I was out of there. The whole drive home I cried so hard it's a miracle I could see well enough to drive. I arrived to find firetrucks surrounding my house and my girls huddled under fire blankets in the yard. It was a very cold night. The girls all got out safely and got the animals out, as well. I had several doves at the time, and they sat in the yard in their cage, apparently not too upset about their ordeal. But the big question was: What Now? We could not remain in the home and found ourselves suddenly needing a place to stay and a place for the animals.
My then future son-in-law's mother took in the doves and she still has them to this day. The dogs, however, had to be boarded at a veterinary clinic for nearly a month. I tried to see them every few days between work and trying to find a new home for myself and the girls. We were all staying at different homes, so we tried to see each other every Sunday. Poor Scooter lost so much weight from the stress of being at the kennel for so long but Bailey seemed to be handling it okay.
Thankfully, by the end of March, I found a mobile home in the neighboring town which incidentally meant the girls would be much closer to their school, so it all worked out well in the end. I bought the home for very little money, it needed lots of work, but it was ours and there was no issue as to whether we could bring the dogs with us. I was not going to move anywhere if it meant giving up the dogs. We received a tremendous amount of help and support from the community and the school, making our transition much easier to bear. Before long we were all under one roof again and resumed life as usual. Scooter quickly put the weight back on and both he and Bailey were happy to be back with their family.
As we were moving in to the new place, and while it was raining steadily the 2 or 3 days we were going back and forth bringing in our belongings, a black dog began to come into the yard and watch us. He kept his distance, not quite sure what to think of us, but eventually he moved closer and closer as we patiently called to him and extended a hand in friendship. Before long he came into the house and let his guard down, allowing us to give him belly rubs and to scratch behind his ears. He was a strange-looking yet oddly cute dog.
Once we were settled and over the next few weeks, I realized that this strange black dog belonged to the next door neighbors. They just let him run about the neighborhood day and night. I talked to his owners who said they never let him in the house and they would tell the park manager he wasn't their dog. He continued to come over and visit us and I decided to take a vote. I asked my girls if they would be willing to adopt this poor dog who needed a home and lots of love. It was a majority vote (one of my girls thought it was just one too many dogs) and so I went to the neighbor to ask if I could adopt their dog. His name, I found out, was Bruiser, and they'd had him for about 2 yrs. They made it clear they didn't like him and he was just a nuisance to them. They had no problem giving him up. So, from then on Bruiser became dog number 3 in our little household. It was obvious that Bruiser was a loving dog who craved love back so badly. He had been treated with disdain and made to run loose throughout the neighborhood and never allowed into the warmth and comfort of his home. Truly, he really didn't have a home until we took him in.
Bruiser is an aggressive dog toward some people if he gets loose, so I have to be very careful to ensure he does not dart out the door. He and Scooter both will look for any opportunity to run amuck if they see the chance. I've had several occasions when I had to go retrieve them when either someone stood by the front door, leaving a nice gap for them to slip through, or because Bruiser found the back door didn't always catch properly. He knew just a little push and he was out the door. He's one smart dog! Bruiser is not a dog that barks very much. He sometimes would bark at passers-by as many dogs do, but never in a vicious way...until one of his former owners passed by. I could be in the house, not having any idea who might be passing the house, Bruiser barking occasionally at kids and other dogs. Then his bark would change. It would become vicious and he would throw himself against the fence with such fervor that I would know instantly who was walking past the house. I'd take a look, and surely enough, whether it was the husband or wife, Bruiser wanted a piece of them. He knows the difference between the good and the bad, and now for the past 3 yrs. he's learned what love really is.
Ironically, about a year ago my girls and I actually moved next door to the home where Bruiser's previous owners had lived after it was apparent that my place was going to be too costly to fix. There were so many issues and we needed a better place to live in. They moved out, we moved in. Thankfully the old neighbors moved right out of the neighborhood, too.
Now Bailey is slowing down, having more difficulty getting her footing when she gets up from a nap and seems to have less control over her bowels as she has had several mishaps on the way to go outside and sometimes right after coming back inside. Thankfully I have a really good steam cleaner, but I realize that she is declining a little more every day. She is also losing her sight. She still eats well and sometimes has her playful moments, but I know I have to prepare for the inevitable. I'm just hoping that she still has another couple of decent years left in her. Losing her will be so hard for all of us, just as painful as it was losing Oreo. She has been part of our family for so long and she is so deeply loved and adored. She is especially close to my 20 yr. old daughter, Syan, who is now in the Air Force at Lackland AFB. Sometimes Syan actually talks to her on the phone and I swear Bailey is listening! Syan will be able to come home on leave in a couple of months and I know Bailey will be so excited. Maybe it will be enough to give her that extra burst she needs to keep going. I know she misses Syan immensely. Syan had been hospitalized a few years ago for five days and when she finally came back home Bailey was beside herself, running around, trying to "talk", so excited she couldn't even bark!
While I've been worrying so much about Bailey as she is getting older, I never realized that Scooter, now 4 yrs. old, would be in the fight of his life just a few weeks ago. Many of my twitter followers know his story and thanks to so many wonderful people I was able to raise donations to help pay for his rising vet bill. Scooter had chewed up and swallowed several pieces of a nylon collar. One of those pieces unraveled in his intestines and as the intestines expanded and contracted, that piece cut into his intestines over and over, causing severe, life-threatening damage. Scooter remained at the veterinary clinic for 14 days and had two major surgeries to repair his damaged intestines. More than 12" of intestine was removed, as well. He refused to eat while at the vet's and chewed out several IV's. He also chewed up at least five collars put on him to prevent him from chewing out the IV's. He was obviously stressed and depressed. Eventually, he had to be force-fed with pureed dog food as he whithered away. I visited him every day and stayed with him as he awoke from his surgeries. I tried to coax him with boiled chicken, but he refused to eat for me, too. Finally, his vet let me take him home the Friday before Memorial Day, though he was very worried about Scooter's refusal to eat. He was skeptical that he would start to eat once he was back at home, thinking that there may still be something in his intestines he overlooked. Miraculously, Scooter did eat that first day home, very little at first, but he ate willingly. I had picked up some canned chicken and rice ground dog food, and he took to it immediately. Over the next few days his appetite increased and he became more active. His vet said he's a "miracle dog". Scooter was not expected to survive his ordeal, but because of the skill and compassion of his veterinarian and my love for him, he pulled through and is now doing remarkable. He is still healing, but he's almost as good as new.
I hope you've found the story of my dogs' lives and how they came to be a part of my family interesting and heartwarming. They have all gone through trauma in their lives but they know they have a loving family who is there for them no matter what. Their trauma is my trauma. And this is their forever home.
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