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Little Orphan Annie

Just waiting for her forever home

By L. Lane BaileyPublished 3 years ago Updated 3 years ago 7 min read
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Little Orphan Annie
Photo by Linoleum Magazine on Unsplash

July of that year was a rough month to be a dog without a home. As I recall, there was rain almost every day that July. And a bit in the lead-up week in June... and more to kick off August. It was miserable. And I had a house and a garage.

Driving home, I spotted a flash of golden hair by the railroad tracks. People leaving their dogs to run in the country annoy me a little... but I was in the suburbs, not the country, and not even that far into suburbia. But honestly, I didn't think much of it.

The next day, my wife spotted the dog, too. Same general place. She stopped... no visible collar... but she couldn't get close. She had seen the dog before, and she didn't want to see it out there alone anymore.

"Lane, you need to go up and catch that dog. It's got to have a home," she told me. That was a pattern, by the way, I would be sent off to do whatever task, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

"Did you take the dog home? Was there a collar?" were her questions upon my return.

Carving a Duck

Have you ever seen the instructions for carving a duck from a block of wood? They are incredible simple.

  1. Find a block of wood
  2. Remove everything that isn't a duck

This was her method. Give me a job to do. Expect it to be done. After all, I'd had ferrets, a Guinea Pig and an Arctic Fox, in addition to several dogs, including King Rolleiflex. How tough could it be to draw in a Golden Retriever...

Arriving at the location the dog had been known to frequent, I pulled the truck off the road into the mire that was the shoulder. I hopped out and walked toward the railroad tracks, whistling for the dog.

"It's too skittish. Won't even take food from me," a lady said, driving by slowly.

Off in the distance, I saw the flash of its golden coat again. I walked toward it, talking in a soothing voice. Fifty feet was as close as I could get.

A new daily task

Every day for the next week, I spent a little time at the railroad tracks. Some days it was completely miserable. Other days it was "miserable adjacent." I stood in the rain with an umbrella, or without. I stood in the mud. I tracked through waist high weeds and grass.

I got within forty feet, then thirty. With food in my hand, I got within twenty feet, then ten. Setting the food down, I was able to stand ten feet from the bowl, then five. But if I tried to approach too close, it would be another day.

It took another week to get close enough to touch the dog. I couldn't have anything in my hand except food and water bowls. If I had a leash, fifty feet was the limit. But, eventually, she would sit next to me and eat while I talked with her.

Three days later, she was willing to get into my truck. She couldn't jump... she didn't have the strength, but she put her front paws out into the doorjamb. I lifted her in and slammed the door.

It was only a mile home, but she shook fiercely. I pulled into the garage and closed the door. I lifted her out of the truck... scared she'd dive and hurt herself... and let her give everything a sniff.

After a few minutes inspecting the garage, the newly christened "Little Orphan Annie Liebowitz" decided that she would check out the rest of the house. And my other dog... King Rolleiflex... a Beagle/Bassett/Foxhound with more personality than any dog should have.

Annie was a sad looking dog. Her tail drooped. Her ears drooped. Her fur was matted. Her ribs were visible even with the thick fur.

The next day was a Saturday. Off to make sure she was ready for the world. She went to the groomer, which also had an in-house vet. She got a quick check-up and a grooming.

"Is that the same dog?" the little neighbor girl asked

"Sure is. Her name it Annie, now."

"Mommy, can I pet Annie?"

I had a quick conversation with the mother... she's not been aggressive, but I've had her less than twenty-four hours. She's had shots, just to be sure...

The little girl next door was soon wrapped around the dog like a boa constrictor. Annie was a champ. Her eyes were bugging out the girl was hugging her so hard, and she lapped it up.

Annie was a beautiful dog. She was mostly Golden Retriever, with possibly a little Cocker Spaniel mixed in. She was basically a three-fourths scale Golden with extra furry feet. She had the temperament of a Golden, too. She was gentle, patient and loved attention.

Rollei soon clued her in to the house rules... he ruled, but dogs in general had a pretty good deal. Sleep where they want, eat when they were ready, and prime seating for road trips.

Never too much attention

Her first road trip showed off one of her attributes. We went to visit my grandparents... 500 miles of driving, followed by a lot of sitting around... and Lawrence Welk.

My grandfather had advanced Alzheimer's Disease at that time. My grandmother, being at least one half saint, cared for him at home the remainder of his life. And, on her first visit, and every subsequent visit, Annie took up position next to my grandfather whenever he was out of bed.

He was non-verbal by then, and didn't seem to recognize anything that happened around him, but he knew of the innate connection between people and dogs. Annie would slip her head under his hand, making sure to stay in a position that was comfortable for him to pet her. And that was what he did... for hours at a time. For days on end.

When we were there, and he was awake, he petted her and she let him. The very last smiles I saw on my grandfather's lips were while he petted her. We only visited a couple of times a year, but when we walked in the house, he started looking for her, and she immediately went to him.

After a few years, my grandfather passed away. Annie, seeing the home in the family, spent a day mourning his loss... she curled up in his chair.

But Annie knew there were others that needed her... so she turned to my grandmother. Annie was always ready to be petted. She would sit at my grandmother's feet and wait until she was ready, and the moment she was, Annie would spring into action, placing herself to best be loved upon by her family.

The rest of her time, when we weren't visiting family or on road trips, she was a pretty average dog. She wanted to be loved, petted and adored, and she was good at it.

In fairness, King Rolleiflex was also pretty solid at receiving and giving love.

When my marriage dissolved, there was no question where the dogs would end up. And they were a large part of what got me through that. And a few subsequent relationships.

But, all good things must come to an end. Annie was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. She'd slowed down, and stopped eating, and uncharacteristically, run away a few times while being let out. She would rush off and try to find a place to hide, knowing her end was near.

One day, coming home from work, she had succumbed. It had moved a lot faster than her vet thought. Months had turned out to be weeks. Annie had been in my care for almost a decade. I'd had Rollei before, and for a couple of years after that, and he mourned her loss as I did.

It is often said that while we only have dogs for part of our lives, but they have us for all of their lives, I have to disagree a little.

Annie had a life before she came into mine, and she will live in my memory as long as I have memories. As I write, I can look over and see Maggie the Magnificent, a Beagle/Dachshund mix that came from the pound, and love her with all my heart, as I loved Rollei, and I will no doubt love others... But Annie will always have a place in my heart and the Pantheon of Awesome Dogs.

humanity
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About the Creator

L. Lane Bailey

Dad, Husband, Author, Jeeper, former Pro Photographer. I have 15 novels on Amazon. I write action/thrillers with a side of romance. You can also find me on my blog. I offer a free ebook to blog subscribers.

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