We all need a dose of Prozac!
What’s bred in the bone comes out in the flesh… Although I knew it was not reasonable to get another rescue yet, I just couldn’t let this one pass. Oh well, blame it on Covid-19 and the shutdown of NYC! Little did I know how much he would actually be the one saving us in this trying time!
Ever since I rescued Elliott, I became a sleuth and quickly had a knack for reading between the lines of pet ads and other adoption blah blah, this way coming across special little ones. By special I mean those many would probably overlook because they are different. They’re the ones I have a soft spot for, those who need you a little more than any other “normal” dog. And this is exactly what our last rescue is, although it was not that obvious at first. He is not a senior like we’re used to reach out to and is a beautiful merle, but I knew there was more behind that pretty package.
Prozac when he arrived, seeking our crew’s reassurance.
Not too sure about the humans of the pack.
Prozac (yep that’s his name, I’ll explain it later) went from one backyard breeder to the other, ending up with Mormons who kept him outdoors. His only luck was to be sterile, otherwise he would most definitely still be there or have been sold to another lousy breeder. He was just no use and they got rid of him. From the pictures, I could see he would be the kind of special I loved, though it was only when I saw him that I realized how much I was right.
I drove four hours across country to get him, packing my mask and hand sanitizer bottle. New York was completely shut down, my husband said I was crazy to rent a car and drive when we were supposed to self-quarantine, but I didn’t care, I was on a mission! Besides, I hardly went out of the car, just to get gas. From the few messages I had exchanged with the breeder, I knew I shouldn’t wait too long… And there he was, a very shy and a bit shut down skinny boy (you could feel the bones through his skin), his paw pads were all flaky and sore (I figured he had probably been kept in an kennel with rocks or wood chips or worse, in a cage with a wired bottom) and his tongue was hanging out on the side. I later noticed why: even if his teeth were full of tartar, he didn’t miss any, but his jaw was deformed.
But quickly fit in the mold!
And we discovered a real clown!
Once at home, he showed the usual kennel dog behavior. He tried to pee everywhere, didn’t know what to make of all that space available, would rather lie on the floor than on a comfy doggy bed, was wary of us and would tense when we approached our hand. But he was not as traumatized as Cookie or Bernie, and he was quite submissive, which made my job a little easier. Our crew was again of great help, showing him the ropes and helping him settling in! He rather quickly gained confidence and started to beg for attention. You should see him now, he is quite the clown, entertaining us and always so happy! He also gained some deserved weight, although he was first quite fussy, not liking our delicious homemade food (he had been used to crappy kibble). Now he devours his bowl with gusto, splattering all over since he has trouble eating with that misshaped jaw, so I’m always by his side to help him a bit. My gut had told me he would be one of those rescues needing special care, except I couldn’t expect him to be such an amazing addition to our pack. In the right environment and with love and good care, he truly blossomed. And everybody loves him, the cats included!
He constantly makes us laugh.
And he now can’t stop smiling!
We called him Prozac because at first, he was so quiet and shell-shocked that he seemed to be a little drugged :)! But now, he has become our powerful dose of Prozac, a natural anti-depressant without the side effects, making us forget about our worries for a bit and calming our nerves down. He is so loving, funny and kind that you can’t help but smile when he is around! He who used to be scared when we approached our faces for a kiss now licks us with his sideways tongue (and he does miss the target at times)! Even if he still needs rehab to be less freaked out in the streets and not hide from strangers, he has already come a long way. Again, he is the proof that there is indeed some magic in rescue!
So it all comes down to, who rescues who in the end? Could rescue have some therapeutic virtue? I believe so, because giving these special beings a second chance truly makes our own life much much better!
Have you been saved by a rescue?