Maggie - Another Puppy Story

Maggie - Another Puppy Story

Gatherers who regularly read my articles know I love animals, especially cats and dogs. Cats have always been tops on my agenda, but needy dogs are a close second, and have featured prominently in my life and in my recent articles at Gather.

I live in a travel trailer at an Indian owned horse camp next to a BLM wilderness because I’m most comfortable living in a rural setting where houses are few and far between. But even more because, while serving as a County of San Diego volunteer at a museum in the nearby village of Campo, I acquired over thirty homeless cats. I didn’t have good facilities to keep them safe from coyotes and bobcats and during the seven years I did volunteer work in exchange for my trailer space, and at least half of my cats ‘disappeared’. Now after seven years since I moved away, I am down to 12 cats and Smokey Joe, a seven-year-old Labrador/collie mix, at least that is what he looks like. He was a dumped as four-month-old puppy that came to me just weeks after my husband died. What trailer park is likely to accept all those pets, except these wonderful, forgiving Indians who also keep lots of dogs?

Recently, Yolanda, a young Indian woman, the chief’s daughter, approached me and asked if I wanted another dog. Although I actually own only one dog, my daughter who lives in a trailer near mine, has eight dogs which are rescued but not placed in new homes. Two are pit bulls and three others are mixed breed pit bulls. They are a problem that I can’t help with because I am no longer steady on my feet or strong enough to hold them on a leash and they will try to kill other dogs.  So, I answered Yolanda with a loud “NO”. But when I looked into the cab of her pick-up and saw little Sasha, with her soulful green eyes, I added, “But if you want me to baby-sit her I will.” Sasha is obviously mostly pit bull, but only about two months old, and has a sweet disposition so far. I did baby-sit Sasha and in just nine few days, she learned much that makes a dog ‘civilized’ except that most important rule that she should go outside to poop and piddle. After those nine days, in spite of the messes she made, I am very, very fond of her, and love her fat, little puppy body curled up and sleeping on my lap.

Today I had an early doctor’s appointment to investigate a sharp burning pain that has been occurring on the side of my breast for about three weeks. I took Sasha in the cab with me, and big old Smokey Joe in the shell in the back of my pickup. I had gone about a mile when another pickup stopped and waved me down. It was Yolanda with her boyfriend, and she was on her way to my place to take back Sasha. The boyfriend said that Sasha is really his dog, and he promised me he always takes good care of his dogs. I have to admit that Sasha was a fat and happy puppy when I got her. I just don’t trust Yolanda to be stable enough to care for a puppy by herself. I had to give her back because my only claim to Sasha was to baby-sit her until Yolanda wanted her back. Since Sasha is still not housebroken, I really didn’t expect Yolanda to want her back. But she does, and I had to hand her over. I broke out crying and made her boyfriend and her promise to return the puppy to me if they found her to be too much trouble and they didn’t want her any more.

We went on our different ways and I could only cry and feel the cold empty spot next to me where Sasha had been cuddling. I was crying so much I had pull over and give myself a lecture to pull myself together. Life happens and not always the way we would prefer.

 After reaching the state road, I had to turn south on a reservation road to get to the Indian clinic. About a mile before I reached it, there, running in circles in the middle of the road, was another puppy. It was  almost a ringer for Sasha, except black with a thin white stripe up her face and a white chest. Was that a coincidence or what? I had only been puppyless for five minutes! Naturally I stopped just as a fast moving car narrowly missed the pup. It didn’t take much coaxing to get the puppy to come to me. It is so thin it looks like skin and bones. If it did belong to anyone, they didn’t care much about it as it hadn’t been fed right and is much more fearful than Sasha ever was. It may be even younger than Sasha.

There are no houses within a quarter of a mile of the spot I found her, and this puppy is too young to do much wandering of its own accord, so it must have been dropped off. On closer inspection, it looks more like a boxer pup than a pit bull. I sure hope so, because I have named her Maggie and I claim her for my own with no returning her to anyone. I’ll get her registered at the veterinarian with an exam and puppy shots and maybe later a chip in the neck to prove she belongs to me.

Smokey Joe is not pleased. He didn’t like Sasha and he doesn’t like this little black one either, but he won’t hurt her. He’s just jealous and I think time will help him get over it.

I think Yolanda still officially lives here in the park up by the entrance, so perhaps I can see Sasha once in a while and maybe make a difference in the quality of her care. I will still baby-sit her if needed. I can also keep track of Yolanda and Sasha through the tribal office.

So here I sit this evening with little black Maggie, and two cats; Buddy and Tiger Tom, in my lap just as I did last night, except tonight it’s a different puppy. The cats seem a little surprised, but accept the puppy just as they did Sasha. Buddy, my longhaired yellow neutered tomcat, even washed Sasha’s face last night. You can’t have a much more peaceable kingdom than that!

Oh, the doctor said I have a recurrence of shingles, and I can handle that.