Bringing A Freezing Dog In Out of the January Cold

Even though None of the Cats Were Happy about it

By Lightning BoltPublished 2 years ago • Updated 9 months ago • 12 min read

In the autumn of 2019, I started suffering from epileptic seizures. Those brainstorms wreak havoc on my memory. I don’t even know what recollections are missing until someone talks to me about a mutual experience we had in the past and I can’t remember anything they are saying. If you are interested, I wrote a short series of articles about my condition in the Psyche community, called I Have Bad Brains. ⚡😁👍

Because of my Swiss Cheese memory, Facebook has become invaluable to me— specifically the daily Memories. My old posts often remind me of experiences that I have totally (or partially) forgotten.

It was three years ago this month, in the third week of January 2019, that I helped a lost dog. Aided by Facebook, I can accurately recount what happened.

This incident took place before my seizures started, so I was still working as a delivery driver at the time.

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On January 19th 2019, I came home from work one night and there was a dog roaming the street. Very near my house, the street ends, and beyond the end of the neighborhood is a wooded area where in the past, many strays (a few dogs and a lot of cats) have sought shelter. I’ve taken in many cats in my two decades living in this location. Many cats.

On that chill night in 2019, long after dark (I worked second shift), this dog running down the street was clearly frantic. I wanted to help him. Seeing he had a collar, I assumed he was somebody’s pet! I quickly parked in front of my house, hurried inside to snag a can of cat food, and then I went after him in my car, hoping to head him off. I was planning to get out of my car and try to entice him with a wet meal. But he wouldn't stop running from me. Eventually, I stopped trying to catch him and put the food on a paper plate at the end of my driveway. He did come back and eat it. But as soon as I went out and tried talking to him, he ran off again.

So... that night, I left one of my trash cans tipped over on my porch, filled with hay, hoping that he'd use it as bedding to sleep. I don't think he did use it though.

The weather forecast called for a lot of snow that weekend, but my city in central Indiana was in the band where it didn't turn cold enough for snow right away. Overnight, as Friday became Saturday, about 4am, it started to rain, and it kept raining, and then turned to freezing rain, and then eventually to sleet. Finally, it switched over to snow much later in the day.

I didn't see the dog that morning. I ventured out to pick up some supplies about 1:00 pm. The roads were slick and treacherous! When I returned from stocking up at the store, there was a lady in my neighbor’s yard talking to the dog.

I jumped out of my car and went over to help. I introduced myself to a neighbor I hadn't met yet. She'd laid down blankets under a tree for the dog and gave him treats. He was shivering violently— so cold. He was covered with ice! She and I both kept talking to him, but he was scared. He wouldn't let us get close enough to grab his collar.

I went back into my house to get a big can of cat food— the same stuff I'd fed him the night before. I put it down, stepped back, and let him eat. He was wolfing it down. I kept trying to inch closer, but he kept bolting away.

{Patience is a virtue.}

I went back into my house to get yet another can of cat food. I grabbed pâté this time, so when I presented it to the dog outside on a paper plate, the Little Friskies 'meat' came out of the can in one big clump. I held my hand out to the dog and just kept talking as he came to eat. I slowly inched my hand in, until I was finally able to grab his collar. He totally panicked then, trashing to get away! He wasn’t small; and I’m not especially strong; but I was able to pick him up and bring him inside my home.

I cranked the thermostat to make the house extra toasty. I dried him off with towels. I fed him some more catfood. I sat with him and he let me pet him. He quickly got over his skittishness. I’m certain after sleeping under a layer of ice, he was happy just to be warm!

He had a collar with a tag, but all this was taking place on a Saturday. The veterinary clinic listed on his tag (in a nearby town about twelve miles away)— it was closed. I knew I wouldn’t be able to get in contact with those folk until Monday.

The neighbor that I met that weekend said she'd called the Animal Protection League in my city and that they would take the dog in. But I didn't want to do that until I made an effort to see if I could find his owner.

I wrote a long post on my personal Facebook page about the situation, asking my local friends to spread the word. I explained that I intended to try to find the owner, but if it turned out that the dog was abandoned, I'd have no choice but to take him the Animal Protection League. We already had too many animals in too small a space.

Since he had that vaccination tag, however, my intuition told me he was a lost pet, and someone was missing him.

At the time of this incident, I had twelve cats.

I know! 🤷‍♂️ Ridiculous, right? Most were strays that I had rescued. Some had been born in the closet in my bedroom (and I couldn't find homes for them when they were weaned). Just the winter before, I had taken in a pair of freezing black cats that we named Midnight and Shadow, not knowing that Shadow was pregnant at the time. Four months later, she popped out five kittens.

{Black cats freak some people out and get abandoned a lot.}

So my entire cat crew were unhappy about us having a dog as a weekend visitor.

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A Little Background...

Besides the twelve kitties, there were two human beings living in my house at that time. Ruth and I had met working as community leaders on America Online way back in the late 1990s. We both helped monitor and contributed to a writer's site called The Amazing Instant Novelist, for which we received free AOL as compensation. She lived in Montana and I was/am in Indiana. We had known each other through the Internet for a couple of years when she divorced her husband because he had a gambling addiction. He kept gambling away all the money Ruth would make. After the divorce, she planned to move to Chicago, where her family is from, where her sister and brother lived. But before going to Chicago, she came to visit me for what was supposed to be a week... and basically stayed for twenty years.

She liked my sense of humor. She once told me that I made her laugh every single day we were together (although sometimes, it was not intentional; it was just me doing the stupid shit I sometimes do!)

Ruth & I started out as boyfriend & girlfriend, but then after many years together, we broke up. We lived apart for a year. Then she moved back in with me, not in a romantic relationship for this second chapter, but as my dear boo, who I took care of as her health went to hell. She eventually passed away in September of 2019. It was two months later, in November of '19 that I met the man I would fall madly in love with, who is now my fiancé.

So at the time this incident happened with the freezing dog, it was Ruth and I living in a three-bedroom ranch house with the twelve cats. One bedroom was mine. One bedroom was Ruth’s. And one of the three bedrooms was ‘the cat room.’

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😾😾😾😾😾😾😾

As I said, the cats were pissed about having a dog in their house. They all hid in my bedroom... while I sat in the living room with the big puppy.

That night, the weather was even worse than the night before, with the temperature dropping into the teens, so I was ecstatic I had managed to get that sweet beast inside.

I posted about my experience on Facebook that night, including pictures. I concluded my long-ass account by writing…

He's a good dog, very affectionate! If anyone has any leads on who might own him, hit me up. I'd appreciate it.

The next day, I added to the same FB post…

--- SUNDAY UPDATE--- I took him this morning to see if he has an ID chip and he doesn't. I'll wait until tomorrow when the vet is open and see if I can track his owners that way.

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Years before this incident, I had joined dozens of Lost Pet Facebook groups in my area. I had successfully returned animals to their owners before. That weekend, I spread word all over Facebook about finding this dog. 👇

The post I made on Facebook on Saturday where I wrote about finding him... it garnered 37 comments and had 187 shares! Those shares made all the difference!

187 shares was HUGE for me. I don't go viral.

Early on Monday morning, I called the vet listed on the dog’s vaccination tag. It turned out the situation was complicated. The dog's tag was so very old, the vet's people initially couldn't find any records, because of the antiquated ID number. But they kept digging and eventually, they did find the information. They were then able to tell me that the couple that originally owned the dog was divorced. The woman gained custody of the dog, but she apparently was in some kind of trouble with the law, and she had to rehome Jimmy. From there— no one knew exactly what happened. I hit a dead end with the vet.

I did learn his name was Jameson, also known as Jimmy.

It was because of people sharing the story I had posted on Facebook that I made the right connection just a couple of hours later. A young lady messaged me with the information I needed! She had tried to contact the Dog Mom with no success, so she reached out to the dog's dad, who hadn't seen Jimmy in a very long time.

This lady I met through FB sent me puppy pics of Jimmy, leaving no doubt this was the same dog!

With the help of this young lady, I was able to call Jimmy's Dad, talk to him, and then arrange to take Jimmy home!

I felt bad for Jimmy's Dad... who certainly didn't know when he woke up that day that he'd be taking in another dog. He told me he already had a dog. I said prayers that the two dogs would get along great. I was hopeful Jimmy had found a permanent home.

When I thanked everyone on Facebook for their help, I wrote…

Say prayers that Jimmy’s Dad can forgive his ex— boy, how hard is that? But, in my humble opinion, forgiveness sets us free. Holding onto anger, grudges— no matter how justified those grudges seem— that is just holding onto dark energy that pollutes the soul. We have to let it go and we often don't *want* to release it. Too often, we cherish our grudges. It's a form of self-destruction, in a way. Certainly, resentment is just a blight on our true being: our spiritual self. (Not trying to preach— just sharing my own views on the subject.)

What can I say? 🤷‍♂️ In retrospect, I sheepishly realize that even though I wasn’t trying to preach, I did a great facsimile.

We all have our own demons to fight. This world can be hard. But God is there for us... and we are there for each other... which can often result in wondrous things happening— like bringing a good dog home.

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My cats were greatly relieved that the monster was gone. Jimmy was a perfect gentleman to them and gave them no grief whatsoever, but cats are shallow creatures, and mine judged this dog solely on his size.

That last morning with him before I took Jameson home, he came and crawled into bed with me— at which point there was a chorus of hissing from all the various high perches in my room. Lots of arched backs and fluffed fur from my cats. Lying in bed with me that morning, when I finally called him by his correct name, Jameson responded to hearing his name by giving me wet sloppy dog kisses that lasted, I swear, for three minutes or more.

I thought I was gonna drown!

Another puppy pic sent to me by the helpful FB lady

Three years later, I am engaged to a wonderful man and our combined menagerie is much different/smaller than it was at the time I helped Jimmy. We now have three cats: Dexter Morgan, Midnight, and Daisy (all who were part of the group that met Jameson)— and we also have two big German Shepherds: Princess and Goldie.