Larry Caldwell
Elite Member
I have had fabulous luck with rescues. Here are a selection of grown dogs who came here to live. Some of them are rare breeds, all purebred.
The first is Annie, our Picardy Spaniel. There may have been 20 or 30 of this breed in North America when we adopted her. She was dysplastic and went down when she was 10, but she was a beautiful dog. Never breed a dog with bad hips.
The next one chose us. Dufus was a chocolate lab who was starved to death and abandoned when he was 8 or 9 months old. He wore his history on his body. His feet were so soft he could not walk on dry grass without limping. He had a scar on his head from being hit. He showed up in the fountain on a 100 degree August day, and was going to run off until I whistled him back. We still had Annie at the time, and she was sweet to him and taught him manners. He had never been trained, and didn't even know how to pack something around in his mouth. I would have sworn it was impossible to do that to a retriever. He was sweet and gentle and generally worthless, but a great friend. From his compulsive chewing, I think he was purchased as a cute little brown ball of fuzz. When he grew up enough to start eating furniture, they tied him in the back yard until they hauled him into the country and dumped him. The was frantic to chew. He destroyed two supposedly indestructible gumabones the first week he was here.
The next rescue was Moody, a Large Munsterlander. He was 50% of normal weight, with raging lyme and anaplasmosis infections. The shelter volunteer was a vet tech, and she thought he was going to die. He had stress shed his entire undercoat. We put him on massive antibiotics, 6x a day feeding, and I slept with him under a flannel blanket for the first two weeks he was with us. He pulled through, and became the most joyous, affectionate dog I have ever had. Sadly, he was only here three years when he was crippled by osteosarcoma and we lost him. I have never loved a dog more.
The next rescue was Willie, an English springer whose owner, Charlie, died. Willie was a companion to an old, sick man, and walked with the slow pace of an old, sick man. One day an ambulance came and took Charlie away, and he never came back. Willie waited at the window, until a neighbor took him to our vet clinic, where we adopted him. We thought he was a quiet and reserved dog, but he was just homesick. Ten months later it was like a switch flipped, and he became a playful goof. He was worthless as a hunting dog, but a sweet house pet. He died from adenocarcinoma. I was starting to feel spooked because I had always had dogs live to a ripe old age.
You have already heard about Abbie. Score! Outrageously intelligent hunting dog who has bonded tightly with us.
Our most recent rescue is Ella, a Royal Standard Poodle with Addison's Disease. We have a convenient vet clinic to manage her illness, and with medications she will lead a normal life span. I'm training her as a truffle dog, so she will never want for a home. She's younger than I wanted, since I may outlive her, but as a trained truffle dog she would sell for about $10k here in the PNW.
I forgot little Lucy. She was a 9 year old apartment pet when we adopted her, and you could see the sparks flying out of her ears when she got to the country. It's her home now.
The first is Annie, our Picardy Spaniel. There may have been 20 or 30 of this breed in North America when we adopted her. She was dysplastic and went down when she was 10, but she was a beautiful dog. Never breed a dog with bad hips.
The next one chose us. Dufus was a chocolate lab who was starved to death and abandoned when he was 8 or 9 months old. He wore his history on his body. His feet were so soft he could not walk on dry grass without limping. He had a scar on his head from being hit. He showed up in the fountain on a 100 degree August day, and was going to run off until I whistled him back. We still had Annie at the time, and she was sweet to him and taught him manners. He had never been trained, and didn't even know how to pack something around in his mouth. I would have sworn it was impossible to do that to a retriever. He was sweet and gentle and generally worthless, but a great friend. From his compulsive chewing, I think he was purchased as a cute little brown ball of fuzz. When he grew up enough to start eating furniture, they tied him in the back yard until they hauled him into the country and dumped him. The was frantic to chew. He destroyed two supposedly indestructible gumabones the first week he was here.
The next rescue was Moody, a Large Munsterlander. He was 50% of normal weight, with raging lyme and anaplasmosis infections. The shelter volunteer was a vet tech, and she thought he was going to die. He had stress shed his entire undercoat. We put him on massive antibiotics, 6x a day feeding, and I slept with him under a flannel blanket for the first two weeks he was with us. He pulled through, and became the most joyous, affectionate dog I have ever had. Sadly, he was only here three years when he was crippled by osteosarcoma and we lost him. I have never loved a dog more.
The next rescue was Willie, an English springer whose owner, Charlie, died. Willie was a companion to an old, sick man, and walked with the slow pace of an old, sick man. One day an ambulance came and took Charlie away, and he never came back. Willie waited at the window, until a neighbor took him to our vet clinic, where we adopted him. We thought he was a quiet and reserved dog, but he was just homesick. Ten months later it was like a switch flipped, and he became a playful goof. He was worthless as a hunting dog, but a sweet house pet. He died from adenocarcinoma. I was starting to feel spooked because I had always had dogs live to a ripe old age.
You have already heard about Abbie. Score! Outrageously intelligent hunting dog who has bonded tightly with us.
Our most recent rescue is Ella, a Royal Standard Poodle with Addison's Disease. We have a convenient vet clinic to manage her illness, and with medications she will lead a normal life span. I'm training her as a truffle dog, so she will never want for a home. She's younger than I wanted, since I may outlive her, but as a trained truffle dog she would sell for about $10k here in the PNW.
I forgot little Lucy. She was a 9 year old apartment pet when we adopted her, and you could see the sparks flying out of her ears when she got to the country. It's her home now.
