I need to make something clear ~
The shelter I worked at was in reality Animal Control (city limits only) for Small Town Midwest USA. Hence, I was employed by the city not Mercedes Misty.
Medical expenses were also paid by the city residents of the small town. However, Mercedes Misty also had a private shelter fund she supposedly used when her budget did not always make ends meet (although her budget for the city quadrupled in the five years since being contracted out by the small town.
I am going to let you all chew on that bit of information for awhile.
Let that shit sink in…
The very next day after the dawg fight and Hero euthanized and packed away is our deep freezer (even though the incident could have been avoided and I believe Hero was only trying to protect me by getting me out of the way) ~
Thunder when to the veterinary for surgery to be neutered.
I should also remind you about how freaking muscular and strong this fella is.
In order to walk this dawg, I had put a harness and a collar on him because it took two leashes to even somewhat hold on to him.
The very first time I initially walked him no one had told me the 60 pounder was as strong as he was.
I looked like a cartoon character flying like a kite behind him ~ my feet did not touch the ground straight out of the gate.
It did not help that he thought he was a dainty lap dawg either.
Thunder immediately had to wear the “cone of shame” because he just would not leave his once manliness alone!
During the two days after the initial dawg fight, I was on my scheduled days off.
Thunder and I seemed to be the only two affected by the life-changing after effects of the dawg fight
I no longer felt safe with my peers and for the first time in my life ~
I felt afraid of dawgs…
When I applied for the position, I even said one special talent I had was being a “dawg whisperer.”
I digress (but only a little).
Thunder had been back to the vet yet again. The pain meds, the cone of shame, and the two leashes were not keeping this tough guy down. No Siree.
Therefore, he seemed to be having swelling issues and for the next three days guess who had to ice his ball sack for twenty minutes a day, FOUR times a day and the ace bandage them each time?
You guessed it ~ ME!
By the end of the second day, Thunder wasn’t even going to allow me to wrap him. He turned his head with his cone slapping the wall and growled at me ~ as if to say: “I don’t think so. “ and I was not even going to argue the facts with him.
During the next mornings walk, I noticed something hanging from Thunders surgery area.
I snapped a photo and sent it via text to the group.
. Needless to say, poor Thunder had to undergo another surgery. This time his entire sack had to be removed (talk about big balls)!
I hate to admit it, but Thunder and I were bonding over his illnesses and time.
Oh I wanted to hate him!
Everyone loved Hero.
He was a beautiful species and was so ever docile. He would walk on his leash like a gentleman ~ no an 80 pound fighting machine. Hero did not bark while inside his kennel. He would lay on the coolness of the concrete floors of the shelter and just watch his surroundings. Although, once during our photo session I blew on his ear to hopefully make them stand ~
He tilted his head to look at me.
His eyes were saying: “ bitch! Do not fuck with my ears.” I immediately apologize and promised not to ever do it again. As well as, making a note to the others not to as well.
I would have understood better if we had euthanized both animals but not just one.
I will say, I finally came to terms with his death ~ believing he is much happier after crossing the Rainbow Bridge instead of hanging in a barred kennel waiting for the right family to come adopt him.
Plus, all the money going into a stray dog brought in by a neighboring town and having to keep him on medical hold for the next 4 -6 weeks before even taking applications for adoptions ~
Served Mercedes Misty right for puttingThunder through such pain and trauma. His bark had even changed dramatically.
So did mine.
I was exhausted from being the main caregiver every shift I had with this dawg.
He had even went through two more cone of shames because he was bound and determined to lick that spot!
The medicine given by our vet to calm him could have put two horses and a cow down.
But not Thunder.
Then I found a list on my favorite music app that was called Dawg Calming Music.
I brought in a cheap Bluetooth speaker and played the soft orchestra music for him.
I’ll be damn!
Not going to lie.
I began spoiling this blue and white beautiful dawg. I would put his medicine in a spoon of wet dawg food and then share my morning breakfast of pop tarts with him (strawberry).
I still had to walk him two leashes and yes I was still the one being flown around the yard on my shifts because the aide said he hurt her wrists trying to walk him (20 years old and whined all the time about some damn pain).
Finally, after several months (or at least it seems that way) a family came in to adopt him.
As much as I loved that dawg (and had begged my sister to let me bring him home at one time) and as much as I knew I would miss him…
I was physically ready to get him out the door!
He was such a ham.
As you can see by the picture, Thunder looked as if he belonged to me ~
Pretty sure he thought the same.
As I turned to walk back in to the shelter after saying goodbye ~
Thunder thought he was supposed to come back in with me. He yanked his new owner forward trying to walk with me.
I could tell he was going to have a great new life with his new “forever” home…
Or at least I had hoped so.
Later we would find out otherwise.
Thunder was not the only dawg brought in from outside city limits and he was not the first to have to receive extensive medical treatment paid for by your local government and tax money.
The fact is ~
There was not hardly any animals other than cats that were from your community.
Mercedes Misty would turn them away…
Of course there is more to come.
I can not wait to share it.
If not one thing comes from my story (like the fall of Mercedes Misty) at the very least ~
My broken heart will have purged my hurt and the betrayal of my “shelter family.”
In the meantime ~
As Always ~
~ Ms. Mae