The Great Escape

12:00 PM: I am feeling grumpy. My companion is relentless, always making some kind of raucous. It is hot. The blazing sun has dried all the surrounding dirt to dust. It is, quite literally, the dog days of summer. It is August of 2010, and in southeast Georgia the summertime heat is suffocating, for it is not just hot, but humid, too.

2:00 PM: If my hoomans were home, they could fry an egg on this searing, concrete patio. But alas, they are gone, and my paws are the only things sizzling. It’s only been 24-hours; they aren’t due home for another two days, and the yard is hotter than Hades. We have consumed all our rations and our water bowl is bone dry. My stomach is an empty pit and I am parched. I gave up barking three hours ago. It was a waste of the little energy I have left.

2:45 PM: I’ve decided. Each afternoon, my window of opportunity opens. As the sky darkens and the rain falls, I will take advantage of this brief respite and dig my way out! I’ve escaped a few times before, but they have always found me; forced me back. This time will be different. This time, I will find a loving family who will welcome me into their home and care for me.

4:30 PM: Well, I did it. It was strenuous work and I am exhausted, but I’ve made it to the wood line. I will spend the afternoon here; for the sun has returned and the tall pines offer me shade and shelter. Besides, I need to rest. I injured my back leg during my escape. As I gently close my eyes to nap, I can feel something latch onto the skin of my ear. Two more latch on, and I can feel these parasites feeding, as they begin to gorge themselves on my blood.

7:00 AM (the next day): Time to find something to eat. My stomach is growling. The only thing around is grass. I graze as I meander around the neighborhood, looking for a nice family. Let me tell ya, it’s a dog-eat-dog world out there. As I am minding my own business, I cross paths with another stray. On the offense, he picks a fight with me, warns me to back away from his turf. I am at a disadvantage, so I limp away after receiving my first battle-wound.

11:00 AM: I stopped to rest on the side of a driveway. I am in the shade of a parked car, not sure how much longer I am going to make it. As I close my eyes to rest and conserve energy, I hear the loud rumble of a motorcycle. I look up and see a man pull into the driveway as the garage door opens. I can sense he is a good person, and I hobble into the garage. He can tell I am weak and injured. I wag my tail and he walks me around to the backyard. The man’s wife and two daughters walk outside to greet me. I wag my tail some more and slowly creep over to them for attention. They give me water, which I gratefully lap up, but maybe too quickly. I throw up all the grass I had eaten that morning. I don’t have a collar or tags, so they have no idea what my name is or where I belong. I continue to drink more water, slowly now, and they feed me some crumbles…real food! I can smell the scents of two female canines that live in the home, and I can hear them inside.

11:45 AM: Animal Control has arrived. Why do they always have to get involved? Maybe this time they won’t detect my microchip. I want to stay with this kind family. As I am put into the truck, I look back at them. I bark, pleading them to let me stay.

THREE DAYS LATER: I hate it here. I have been barking non-stop, trying to tell them how much I want to live with that kind family. Wait. Who is this? Yes! It’s the kind man with the motorcycle, and he is here to visit me. We walk outside together and I am on my best behavior. I wag my tail and I am very affectionate. I hear the hoomans talking. The Humane Society employee is telling the man that if I am not claimed after two more days, then he can adopt me!

4:30 PM (two days later): Today is the day! My so-called “owners” haven’t claimed me. The man with the motorcycle is back, and he is signing my adoption papers! He drove an SUV this time, and helps me into the hatchback trunk. When I get to my new home, I am greeted with so much love and affection. I am introduced to the other dogs that live there, and they accept me into their pack as their alpha male. It feels nice to belong. Finally, I am safe, happy, and loved. I will protect and love my new family, as well.

Even though my dad initially called Animal Control, I just knew this dog would join our family. He had a sweet and gentle temperament, and he looked at us with such sad eyes as he was loaded into that truck. Clearly he had not been properly cared for: covered in dirt, malnourished, nothing but grass in his stomach and ticks in his ears. And though my dad swore he would never own a male dog, I just knew he would let us keep this one. He needed a good home, and the Humane Society was having a hard time handling him. I knew my dad would rather adopt him than allow him to be euthanized.

Petey, as we named him, was estimated to be three years old when we adopted him into our family. A mixed breed, tall and lean with the characteristic under bite of an American Bulldog, Petey had a brown patch over his right eye and a white coat with light brown spots. As he aged, those spots faded, especially the patch around his eye.

He also had a limp when we adopted him. Initially he was diagnosed with hip dysplasia; however, it was soon determined that his knee was the problem. He tore his ACL, and over the course of his life, he had bilateral knee surgeries to repair the ligaments. He was very loving and friendly toward people; however, he suffered from fear aggression. Therefore, he did not get along well with strange dogs. He also developed a fear of thunder as he aged. He would shake and pant while it stormed.

Despite these neuroses, Petey was my best friend. He was a good boy. He enjoyed going for walks and got to experience “country living” once my dad retired. On 38-acres, he could roam around at his leisure, but he never strayed far. He would only go out when we did, and always liked to stay close. I always encourage friends and family to rescue an animal. It’s a mixed bag, but as long as the animal is not dangerous, adopting a pet is very rewarding. Every animal is different, and some have experienced trauma, but I believe animals can be rehabilitated with proper training, patience, and love. It is also important to always spay or neuter your pet upon adoption, if they haven’t been already, to prevent more homeless animals. It is the responsible thing to do, along with micro-chipping, which allows your pet to be safely returned to you if he/she is lost. Petey actually ended up with two micro-chips. His original chip and shifted, and the Humane Society was unable to locate it. So, when we adopted him, a second chip was placed. It was years later when the vet happened across the original.

Sadly, Petey passed away in July of 2020. He lived a good life, but he grew old. He began to lose weight and it was difficult for him to stand up. At the end, he was in a lot of pain, which manifested as heavy panting and a complete loss of appetite. He had to be hoisted up, and my dad made the tough decision to put him to rest. His ashes are in a box at my parents’ house, and he remains part of our family.