Rescues and Rescue(d) Dogs

Several weeks ago, Natalie "rescued" a dog.  A dog named Homer.  Then Watson.  Then ResDog (my favorite).  And finally, Scooter.  No-don't get confused now.  She didn't rescue four dogs-just one dog that had four names.  Now he has one-Scooter.
Nat was excited and very happy to have a dog.  Then her eyes started to water and her nose began to run.  No, it wasn't Tears and Snot of Joy from having her own pooch-even though she was quite happy to have a hound-it was allergies.  To her new doggie.
Then she went back to real-life work, leaving home early in the morning and coming home late in the evening.  Scooter (Watson then, or was it RD?) spent the day chewing his bed and "collecting" Nat's clothing to make a bed he wanted.
Phone call from Natalie: "What was I thinking?!  I am gone almost all day and Watson (now Scooter-don't get confused) spends the day either eating my apartment or locked in his kennel.  Maybe I need to take (insert name of dog here) back to Rover Rescue."
I thought that might not be a bad idea, but Mom thought it would be nice to have a dog around.  She likes dogs.  So, we now have Scooter (correct current name) at our house.
"Scooter" stuck as this hound's moniker (I'll wait while you ask your parents what that means) because it fits.  You know how most dogs will come up and slobber all over you if you offer them anything remotely resembling people food?  Or even road kill?  Well, Scooter stays away from you in the house.  He will come no closer than 5.37 feet to you.  You can call, coax, lie on your back and whine, or even offer BACON!  And he will keep his distance.  If you try to walk up to him to pet him, he scoots away.  He is really good at it.  He scoots and scoots.  The only time he acts doggy-like is when you go to the front door, put on shoes and rattle the leash.  Then he is your best friend, sitting on your feet and wagging his tail.
Mom and I have, for the past few weeks, housed, fed, made nice noises and tried everything-including offering pig parts to eat-to try to get Scooter to be our friend.  We have taken this hound on walks-long walks along the canal and in the hills-every stinkin' day.  I even passed up a bike ride yesterday on a sunny afternoon to take this stand-offish canine for a walk since Mom was working and he hadn't had one all day.  He is your best friend on walks, but, once home, he reverts to Scooter.  The exception is Natalie.  Now, we have had this dog for the past few weeks at our house.  Daily feeding, walking, poop gathering, trying to play with, rolling on the floor and whining like a puppy has been done.  Do you think this dog would begin to act like he likes being around us?  No way! Other than walks, he maintains his 5.37 ft distance.
 But-when Nat's car gets within our zip code, Scoot picks up his ears, gets a doggy smile on his chops and starts wagging his tail!  And when he hears the door, he Scoots-to the door!  To jump and wag and be all excited that his Rescuer is here!
You need to remember that Nat sees this dog once or twice a week-she is allowing us to do the daily feeding, walking, clean-up, etc with this hound.  But it is obvious that Scooter knows that, without Nat, he may well not be rescued yet.  And he is quick and generous in showing his gratitude to her.
And it is obvious that Nat likes this Scooter dog as well.

OK-stay in there.  This won't be long, but I need to tell you about another dog rescue.
Hairy (Best Dog Ever) came to us as a puppy.  Buffy (whoever came up with THAT name?) help raise him.  He wasn't a rescue dog-we actually got him through my brother Steve, who belonged to Max, who deserves his own stories.  Maybe another time.
Where was I-Oh-Hairy (named for obvious reasons.  I think you may still find some of his follicles in our home) was the BDE.  I will tell you about some of his adventures another time.
Today, I am going to share just one short Hairy tale.  Hairy himself only had a short tail.  But I digress.
When Hairy (BDE) was a few months old, Natalie, her friend and I took Hairy for a walk along the canal.  It was a nice summer day, and the canal was running fairly high.  Hairy (BDE) decided to see how the water was.  He had not been in the water before, but I was not concerned because I grew up knowing that all animals, except monkeys and humans can swim from birth.  Now, don't you believe this-ask aunt Em if you want to know this is true, but that is what my Dad told us when I was young, and it stuck with me.  Anyway-I knew Hairy (BDE) would be just fine swimming in the canal.  Well, he swam across the canal, then decided he needed to swim back to be with his pack (that would be us) again.  He hopped back into the water and started paddling.  Dog paddling.  Well, what kind of paddling would you think he would do?  Anyway, he got in the flowing canal just a little ways above a two-foot high fall under a bridge over the canal.
I could see it would be questionable if Hairy (BDE) would make it across the canal before the flow took him over the little falls.  And I could see, in the backwash of the falls, flotsam and jetsam (ask your folks!) rolling around, caught in the reverse flow under the falls.  Hairy (BDE) was not very big yet, and I could imagine him being caught in the rolling current himself.
We were cheering him on, but, as he got most of the way across it was clear that he wasn't going to make it.
The flow took him over the falls.  We held our breath-hoping Hairy (BDE) would do the same-waiting to see his soggy self pop up out of the water.
We didn't see him.  And he had been in there too long.
I told Nat and her buddy to stay on the canal road, and I hustled down under the bridge and reached into the water where I saw a black and white fur ball cycle around.
I reached in as far as I could, felt a furry ear and pulled as hard as I could. I got Hairy (BDE) close to the surface, but the combination of canal current, my grip not strong enough and the ear not being a convenient handle, caused me to loose hold of that ear.  I thought Hairy (BDE) was soon to be the late Hairy (BDE).
I knew I had one more chance.  I saw him cycling around again, thrust my arm into the churning water (sounding pretty exciting, don't you think?) and caught hold of his collar!  A nice, firm, reliable handle.
I pulled the sopping lump of fur out of the current and threw him up on the road.  You need to know that I had one leg in the canal, one hand braced on the underworks of the bridge and the other fishing for dogs, so I didn't have the option to gently cradle him in my arms and gently lay him on the bank.
So he got dog-tossed.
Hairy (BDE) had glazed-over eyes (not a good thing) and wasn't moving much.  The Toss, however, had forced him to expel canal water out of his snout (a good thing. One should avoid getting canal water in one's snout and lungs), and he move some.  I still was not convinced that the Dog was not Gone.  He did not look good.  We thumped on him a bit and got more water out.
Then Hairy (BDE) took in a breath, did a doggy gag-cough (you know what I mean).  Got more nasty canal water out, shook his head, got up, and took a few shaky steps.  Then he did something wonderful.  Hairy (BDE) did the Dog Shake!  What a wonderful thing to see!  Especially since we thought he was probably Doggone!  Don't you wish you could shake water off like a dog?  From your nose to the end of your tail-if you had a tail?
Anyway, Hairy (BDE) did a decent Dog Shake, then smiled, got his bright eyes back and wagged his stubby tail!  And we were all happy, relieved, blessed that Hairy (BDE) was back!

OK-my intent with this entry was to tell a couple of rescue stories, then pontificate (that one is worth looking up-not the Pope-related definition) on rescuing.  Since I have gone way    too     long    ,    I will share some thoughts on rescuing and rescues next time.  So you have time to consider these stories.  There may well be a quiz.  With grades.  But no prizes.  Maybe bacon.