Reckless Abandon

The C.F.’s quote of the day, “Uh-oh… Niiiinaaaa?”

This is how my morning started as I emerged from a sleep full of strange dreams. When I sat up, I saw the C.F. by the garden with two puppies waggling expectantly around his feet.

I ran down to see. One of the puppies was reddish brown, and the other all black. Both were covered in swollen ticks, had all-too-visible ribs, a few scars, and big brown eyes full of hope. And soon, both had their noses in a bowl of goat’s milk that disappeared faster that I thought possible.

The C.F.’s next statement: “No.”

Okay, I know we can’t keep them. We have to save every extra penny for the care of the Wee Farmer we’re expecting in November. But they were so sweet, and helpless, abandoned, and grateful for the food and attention. These puppies, in the first minutes they spent with us, nuzzled their way into my heart. And so began my mission to save the puppies. I lured them with food and got them in a laundry hamper we’ve used to trasport chickens, and put them in the back of the truck. Even within the green plastic walls of their cage, their tails thumped as they looked up at me. As I drove them to the Humane Society in Fort Smith, I tried to think of what I would name them, you know, if I were going to keep them. Not a healthy line of thought.

I have learned several things this morning since the puppies appeared. I have learned that our Humane Societies are overwhelmed—they were full and could not take them in. This led me to wonder how humane our society is to have so many abandoned animals like these dumped on the sides of roads. My frustration began building.

I also learned Crawford County does not have a Humane Society or any animal control ordinances. What we have instead are a few private individuals with animal rescue operations. One woman saves around 1,000 dogs a year by bringing in strays, taking them to the vet, and then shipping them to states that have a shortage of adoption dogs. She pays for it all by herself and with donations. She probably is motivated by the fact that 5,000 animals a year are euthanized at animal shelters in northwest Arkansas. That is another fact I’ve learned this morning. However, she too is overwhelmed with animals at the moment, and cannot take anymore dogs in either.

On the farm we have had a lot of problems with dogs. A pack of neighbor dogs that are allowed to roam free have been spotted circling our livestock, and we have seen the results of their attacks on our laying hens. We’ve lost twenty at a time. One of our neighbors had a pack attack and kill his two pigs. This being a small town, he knew whose dogs they were, and knew they were not well fed. Clearly, there are too many dogs in the world, and too many that are neglected or abandoned. It seems there are more people who don’t care about them than those who do.

These two creatures opened up to us as soon as we showed them a little kindness, like day lilies opening to the sun, as if they were hungry for warmth even more than for food. Their tails wagged and they seemed to smile just to hear us talk to them with gentle voices. How anyone could betray such pure trust, I cannot begin to fathom.

We found a canine rescue place that would take them in. It is a no-kill shelter, and the woman who runs it does a thorough check of any potential adopters, making sure the dogs won’t be showing back up in a year when the owners get bored with having pets. The dogs have lots of room to play there, and she leaves NPR on for them twenty-four hours a day. She says it is very soothing, except for maybe the Friday night Blues Hour. Before we met her, and were picking ticks off the puppies—out of their ears, armpits, from between their toes, off their skinny bellies—the C.F. said, “This is why I hate people.” After we met her, the scale tipped back a little bit in the favor of humans. The puppies, who we never did name, but just called Brother and Sister, are with her now in a pen together listening to All Things Considered, and will be well taken care of.