Ann and Ellie

Lucien, Linny and Popcorn

Lucien extemporizes on feelings -- his and those of his dogs, Popcorn and Linny. Both dogs are puppies and larger than he is.

Raleigh

Raleigh, a Rescued Coonhound photo: © Miranda Loud

I grew up with dogs, but I had never heard of a Treeing Walker Coonhound before. Elizabeth and I had looked for a rescue dog for quite some time, but had not found the right match for one reason or another. However, the second we saw Raleigh staring into the camera with his big ears and broken leg we knew we had found our dog.

We officially met Raleigh for the first time in a parking lot in Connecticut. He was in a van filled with other dogs that were also being rescued from a kill shelter in North Carolina. Raleigh did not jump up and lick our faces; he approached us cautiously and with curiosity. On the ride back up to Cambridge, he sat in the back seat calmly looking out the window as dogs often do. We knew it would take time for Raleigh to be completely comfortable with us and our home…

His story is a bit heartbreaking. He was originally a hunting dog, but he is extremely anxious of loud noises and so he was left in the woods. I am unsure of how long he was on his own, but it likely was not long as he ended up being hit by a car – resulting in the broken leg mentioned earlier. From there he went to a high kill shelter, to a no kill shelter, and then to someone’s home. His original adopter had some sort of accident where his broken leg was either put in danger or had pressure applied to it and so he snapped. That person, reluctantly, gave Raleigh back as the accident left too many issues with trust – and a dog like Raleigh simply needed someone that had strong foundation at trust at the very start.

Knowing that story, we felt and still feel lucky to have Raleigh as a part of our family. He keeps us company when we go running. He gently climbs on our laps and shoves his head under our arms (he’s a great snuggler).  And he remains a dog that needs patience and persistence: he’s ~OK with kids, not so great with other dogs, and he’s been known to cause destruction on occasion. But he’s great with us.

Patrick B.

Eddie - Rescue Goes Both Ways

I went to the MSPCA-Angell adoption center to drop off two old comforters. Although I had been looking for a large dog to adopt, I had decided to take a break from my search; still, it is against the laws of nature to go to a dog shelter and not check out the available dogs. The sight of Eddie stopped me in my tracks; I stared and blinked and stared again: he appeared to be Max, my first dog, who had died tragically thirty years ago. I came back to visit him two more times, and on our walks he seemed forlorn, exhausted, spent, and yet so sweet, maybe hopeful—rolling on his back for a tummy rub. Upon returning him reluctantly to his pen, I gently pushed his rump inside to close the gate—and he pushed back, unmistakably. We have been communicating ever since through a nudge, a look, a stretch, a wag. On Eddie’s intake papers, was noted “lost”. We found each other. His papers concluded: “A peach of a dog.” Yes, maybe even a peach dropped from heaven.

Abby and Henry - Overcoming Obstacles

Painter Julie Hedrick describes how her daughter convinced her to rescue a neglected dog in Brooklyn called Abby, and how Abby learned what it means to be a dog and be loved when she met Henry. Video by Miranda Loud 2013.

Our daughter was living in Williamsburg with two roommates from California. One of them had brought this tiny little puppy that was as big as the palm of your hand in a little bag on the airplane when she flew to New York. She named her Abby. They all moved in together and started school. It all fell apart very quickly. Jill didn’t train Abby, didn’t walk her. She was off at school all day so little Abigail had to fend for herself. She had no idea what it meant to go outside, walk and be a dog. She didn’t know how to be a dog.

And right around that time, we asked our daughter if she’d take care of our dog Henry while we were away for a couple of weeks. Henry came to New York and Henry got walked every day at the dog park and played and played. He would get so tired that Ari would have to carry him home in her arms, and Henry really bonded with little Abby. She kind of got a sense of what it means to be a dog. You walk, you explore, you play with other dogs.

We came home and everyone was happy, took Henry home, but after that, things went from bad to worse for Abigail after that. Soon, we received an email from our daughter with a photo of Abby with a bow in her hair and all brushed saying “Please will you adopt me?” So, we picked her up one night. It was very stealth, coming into Williamsburg. We opened the door of the car and came upstate with this little dog. We got Abby here and she didn’t know how to be housetrained, but after the first night, Henry showed her and she learned. Henry also taught her how to go up and down the stairs. 

Colby, Our Fifth Family Member

Colby didn’t think he was a dog. We swore that such an attitude was the source of his longevity; a Labrador retriever that lived past his sixteenth birthday who believed our little pack was populated entirely by animals of the same species. He slept on a bed and thought dog bowls were for dogs. Unlike every other Lab in history, he never rushed to his bowl when we poured in his kibble; Colby simply loved human food. We sat eating with a hand raised high out of habit, otherwise Colby would leap up and devour our food. When visitors arrived at the door, Colby greeted them with a shoe in his mouth and carried it around for a minute or two; he kept a collection under the dining room table. One summer we lost a running shoe and the following spring found it in the woods by the lake: a greeting that had gone too long. Colby reminded us that family extends beyond ourselves. He loved completely, without hesitation. Even when he could no longer thump his tail or carry shoes in greeting, his eyebrows wiggled around his head to show his joy at being with us. He is sorely missed.

James Zug