My Funny Valentine

by Kris Neri, with the Femmes Fatales

With Valentine’s Day approaching, the individual in my life that I’m especially grateful for is our latest rescue dog, Sammy.

Named after Samantha Brennan, one of the duel protagonists of my magical mystery series, there’s more than a few similarities between these two. Like Samantha, Sammy’s fur grows in wild curls, and more importantly, both my dog and my literary fake psychic hear the beats of atypical drummers.

Sammy’s story with us goes back more than a year, to the fall of 2017. We lost our beloved Maine Coon cat, Philly, a couple of months earlier, and while we were still grief-stricken, we found with the long hours we often worked, our dog, Rosie, was growing lonely and needy. Even though it wasn’t an ideal time for us, Rosie clearly would have benefitted from a pal. 

Although she was caged in the Sedona shelter, we didn’t choose Sammy at first. For one thing, she had a huge fatty sack on her chest, which quivered unattractively to the beat of her barking, something she did
incessantly. (Eventually, that was surgically removed, and no longer mars her cuteness. The barking also stopped once she was free of that place.) More importantly, she was coupled with an aged Jack Russell terrier.

Since the Miniature Schnauzer, who would become Sammy, whom we were told was eight years-old, had such an obviously tight connection with the fourteen year-old Jack Russell, we weren’t sure whether it would be right to separate them, but neither were we sure we could take on, not one, but two new pets.

We were also told by a shelter worker that both dogs and some cats had recently been dumped by people who decided to move and no longer wanted them. Apparently, they’d all been kept in some overgrown yard, never being let in the house, before they were abandoned entirely. The shelter employee indicated they were fairly feral.

We decided to pass, but somehow, we kept going back to see them. Others made the issue of the two-dog choice for us — they took the old Jack Russell. With that, a feral Mini Schnauzer entered our lives.

We had no idea how great a challenge we had taken on, nor how great a reward awaited us on the far side of that challenge.

From the start, she was untamed and untrusting. And un-housebroken; she hadn’t lived in a home, remember. She picked up housebreaking pretty fast from Rosie, but not much else. Her little black eyes were as hard as coal, and seemed to say, “I don’t want you, and I know you don’t want me.”

Rescue animals all have their secrets. I’ve always referred to them as “Mr. Steele,” of the old Remington Steele TV show, in which the main character kept his past hidden. You learn to read their stories from the clues they provide.

Some are easy. Beneath her wild fur, Sammy was emaciated. In that unkept yard, they clearly hadn’t been fed regularly. No matter how much food we gave her, she was working at such a deficit, it took a while to bring her up to a normal weight. 

Why, oh why, do people take in animals they don’t intend to care for?

Once when the dogs managed to liberate our kitchen garbage, Sammy squirreled away some paper towels we’d used to microwave bacon, and the experience clearly triggered a flashback. She's a much more frightened dog when, while growling and snarling, she tried to protect her booty from us. The place she had come from must have been something of a canine and feline Lord of the Flies, in which they had to steal garbage to survive. My heart grieved for her and all the pets who have to live like that.

We discovered she’d never played with toys. We’ve spoiled all of our pets with more toys than any of them have needed. Our dogs have always had an abundance of what we call “woolies,” stuffed animals for dogs. When Sammy came to our home, Rosie probably had at least a dozen. Whenever Rosie feels especially joyous, she grabs whichever one feels right to her and furiously squeaks it. When someone has to fight for food, toys really don’t matter. Yet it’s tough to watch when an animal can’t have the same fun as a luckier dog.

The way she backed away from us and hid told us that she’d probably been beaten. The longer we’ve had her, the more evident it’s been how much she’d suffered. No wonder why fun seemed so alien to her.

We began making in-roads. Those coal-hard eyes softened. Joe had more success with her initially than me. That told us the woman in her prior life was probably the mean one. When she finally jumped up beside me on the couch and pressed herself to my thigh for the first time, I thought my heart would burst.

But it was still always a few steps forward and at least one back. We feared our move from Arizona to New Mexico would be especially challenging, such both dogs began freaking out when we began packing.

To our surprise, Sammy’s progression into a family dog sped up after the move. It was as if she decided we were all on a level playing field in the new house. Our maybe all our prior work with her finally yielded dividends. 

Our New Mexico vet estimates her age to be lower than the eight years estimate the shelter gave us; he thought she might be 4-5 at most. We don’t know how many lives Sammy had before us, just that they were all hard. But, finally, with us, those hard days are over. 

We’ve read that Mini Schnauzers are natural clowns, and we see the inner puppy of our little clown emerge more and more. Sammy plays with toys now. She’s clearly proud of her ability to produce squeaks. She jumps on our bed and fights with the pillows, her eyes sparkling with joy. 

She still clearly hears the beat of a pretty wild drummer — but that’s okay; so do we. I’m astounded that other people didn’t see or want all the love trapped in that feral little heart. We almost missed it. But that love pours out all the time now. 

I hope all the animals she lived with have found good forever homes. I hope all animals everywhere do. 

What special rescue stories do you have? 

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Comments

[Susan Neace]

13 years ago a beautiful feral kitten showed up to eat dinner with a neglected cat we fed who technically belonged to our neighbor. We added another bowl of kibble to the porch offering. It had blue eyes and appeared to be a lynx point Siamese. It became clear it was a female when she came into heat but despite my best efforts I couldn't get close enough to catch her before she got pregnant. We had other cats so the vet cleared her before she came inside. She had 6 kittens we found homes for. Most strays we took in told me their names but she refused, so she is called Girl. She was almost possible to touch, although she was not viscious when we had to catch her
2 years ago we moved to a new house. Surprisingly Girl had bonded with our rescue dog and since Fox wanted constant attention, Girl would come closer and suddenly Girl was in my lap. We went from never touching her to having her always attached. It only took 11 years

[krisneri]

Susan, what a lovely story. Girl is lucky to have found you.

[Barb Goffman]

Kris, you have brought tears to my eyes. Thank you for saving Sammy and allowing her to be a lucky dog who has learned the joy of squeaking toys.

I've had two rescues, both wonderful dogs. Scout, my first, was found abandoned as a puppy. He was adopted by a family, then returned five years later because the parents couldn't keep their kids from treating him poorly. I get angry every time I think how my poor baby must have felt upon being returned as if he were worthless. We met a year later, and I tried every day for the rest of his life to give him the joy he deserved, and he knew. He knew he was safe and loved and would be forever. As with Sammy, you could see it in his eyes. I miss him.

[krisneri]

Barb, thanks for sharing Scout's story. I always think of those awful first families as the place-holders until we, the rightful pet parents/friends, are in a place to take them. I bet Scout thought it was worth enduring whatever awful treatment those miserable kids gave him to reach the point when he and you could connect. You were both so lucky to have each other. He's still watching over you.