This diary http://www.dailykos.com/... got me thinking about dog stories. I have one that I would like to share that is deeply personal and painful, but I cannot. Rather, I would like to share the happy ending to the story of Poop Stander. Follow me for more.
I was a volunteer at a local vet clinic. I walked dogs, cleaned cages, helped with surgeries and various tasks. The clinic would take in strays, abandoned animals, etc and work to find them homes. It was rewarding. Once, a number of years ago, a local puppy mill was shut down and several Yorkies were seized. The pound did not have space for all of them and one ended up at my Vet's. He didn't have a name. The monster in charge of the mill did not bother to name the livestock. I named him "Poop Stander" because he would crap wherever he happened to be then stand in it or even lie down in it. This was because he had spent his entire life in a tiny cage with no room to get away from his waste. The place he came from did not allow for walks or care.
Despite being fairly young (only about four) he had lost most of his teeth from malnutrition. His tongue hung out of his mouth all of the time. When I first met Poop Stander he was so dehydrated that his urine was like mucous. If you pinched his skin it would retain the shape of your fingers.
When you opened his kennel to take him out he would cower and whimper. But. But. And this is it. When you picked him up he would stiffen for an instant, until you held him against your body, stroked him and spoke softly. Then his little butt would start to waggle. When you got outside in the sun he would run and smile and come to caps and calls. This dog could be saved.
After months with him I had to see Poop Stander go. I was sad. But I was happy. The old woman who took him had lost her Yorkie a few months earlier. When I saw them together I knew it was a perfect match.