July 28, 2022
Today’s blog
Lynn Murphy Mark

The sweet side of mean

It’s been 16 months since we rescued Mollie from an unscrupulous hobby breeder in Southern Missouri. We suspected, but didn’t know for sure at the time, that she has a very damaged psyche. She lived in a rubber shed with a pack of hyperactive dogs. She was bred three times before she turned three. She was never taken for any Veterinary care except one night when she couldn’t birth the pups and had to have a C-section and hysterectomy to save her and the pups – the breeder took her home that same night and never brought her back for after care. She never got her vaccinations.

The breeder told me she was very healthy, was good with children, was potty trained. None of those statements turned out to be true. Our vet found heartworms on her first visit, she is scared silly of little children, and she is definitely not completely housebroken. We had to put her through a toxic “cure” for heartworms that was hard on her. Thank God she made it through and she is clear of those disgusting worms that literally take root in an animal’s heart.

We did report the breeder to the Missouri Department of Agriculture. However, because she is a “hobby breeder”, in other words, small potatoes compared to regular breeders, she is not subject to the same regulations. But they said they would make a visit. I don’t know if they ever did.

So, we have a 15 pound Dachshund who thinks she is a very nervous Rottweiler. She is afraid of every noise that happens around us – we live on the first floor of a condo building and there’s always traffic out in the hall. Her response to noise, or to anything going on outside of our patio, is to raise her hackles and try to look as big as possible and bark like a wild animal.

She’s on people-sized doses of two medications to try and help her anxiety. Even with those on board she is anxious and afraid of other people. She has settled in with Jan and me, and tends to be my shadow. When other people come to the house she grabs one of her toys, carries it like a puppy, and makes unending rounds of the living room and dining room. She will not come close to a stranger. If a hand is raised around her, she flinches like she’s been hit before.

She has had all the makings of a mean, angry dog. I’m surprised she is as gentle as she is with us. And she has such a sweet personality when she is not being afraid. She plants herself next to us on the couch. She sleeps soundly in bed with us, taking up half the bed with her long self. She clearly loves us. When she looks at me with those loving big brown eyes I think about what it must take for her to trust any human, and I feel blessed. The unconditional love of a dog is one of life’s greatest gifts. I am so grateful that her horrible upbringing did not completely destroy any shred of sweetness. That’s the risk when getting a rescue dog, and we are fortunate, indeed.