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GA Rescue & Rehab

A Foster Story

He had the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen. He was a big, black, scared lab mix and I kept glancing at him, amazed that such a large dog could ball up in a corner of his cage, making him self invisible.

Most of the animals presented for the first annual ADOPT! A PET day, wagged their tails, strutted around and tried to look their cutest… It was almost as if they knew they are being judged. Fortunately, we had shown a successful day of adoptions and most of our puppies and kittens as well as many adult animals were adopted by well screened families looking for a new addition. I was pleased that the litter of pups that I fostered in my home had found loving homes.

I had been volunteering with the rescue organization for several months when we began planning the collaborative county adoption day, inviting some of the local vets, pet food vendors and volunteers. I thought it was a wonderful idea for us to come together and be united in our quest to find homes for the unwanted animals dumped in our counties. As with most rural communities, the limited facilities our small town had combined with a Georgia State Park that is a favorite place for dumping, we find ourselves as a county, overwhelmed, with the amount of strays left here. My reward for volunteering is seeing each animal find a loving home and an opportunity to start their life over.

Exhausted by day’s end we began packing up the crates, tents and cages used for the showing, only a few older cats and dogs were left to take back to their foster homes, my hearts eye continued to follow the large black dog that no one wanted. Pulling one of my fellow volunteers aside I inquired about the scared and shy dog. She began to tell me a horrible story. Joe, a black lab mix, had been dropped off by the sheriff at a local animal clinic in a black trash bag; completely bald with a terrible case of the mange, he had been badly abused and his back had been broken. The black pup had been used as “bait” for the pit bulls that are being trained and would encounter the fighting ring in the future. The wonderful vet and technicians at the clinic repaired his body, but his soul remained broken.

Before I knew I had made the decision…I took Black Joe home with me! What a challenge he became, I was so use to the animals taking to me immediately so it took some time for me to realize just how badly he had been treated. The more I watched him, the more I learned about his first 7 months of life. It took days for him to allow me to touch him, the first few weeks I kept him enclosed in a fenced in area outside, with plenty of fresh water, food and a doghouse filled with fresh hay, he had his physical needs met while his brain continued to be suspicious of every move I made.

We walked every day sometimes twice a day, this was the only time he let some of his guard down, I bought one of the extension leashes that allowed him to be as far away from me as he chose to be, the further we walked, the more he relaxed, even crossing my path occasionally and allowing me to run the tips of my fingers over his back as he trotted by. I introduced my personal dogs to him, one at a time on these walks. He took to each of them and bonded with my male boxer “Dakota” in particular. After about a month on the leash I began to let him off to run with my dogs, exploring the nooks, crannies, sights and smells of the eighty acres we traveled behind my house. He began to smile on these walks, running by me and wagging his tail.

He was fascinated with the puppies I fostered; cocking his head at their playful antics he would try and join in but didn’t know how. The first time he began to play you could tell he was awkward and clumsy but puppies are forgiving in nature so… soon he began to relax and the pups enjoyed his company. It was funny to watch this big boy find the “puppyhood” he never got to experience. Loving the freedom, appreciating the independent movement and allowed to be himself, Black Joe began to heal.

About two months later I started forcing him to come into the house, I had to trick him into it and would sometimes pick him up or drag him into the house. Once in, I would place him on the couch and curl up and snuggle with him. I was the only one in the family he would allow to touch him. He continued to bark and growl at my boys and husband who complained that we were now caring for a watchdog that didn’t allow even us in the front door. My family was very patient with Black Joe and me, my husband even got over the fact that they shared a name. He still cringes sometimes when I yell for Joe out the front door.

We have had Joe for years now; those years of love, attention and work have paid off in his quality of life. He has put on weight, his black coat, peppered with what we call “trauma gray”, has grown out and he is a very handsome one hundred and ten pound dog. He sneaks in the bed with my husband and me every night, still craving the need to be as close to me as he can. Waiting at the entrance to our driveway every day when I pull in from work He follows me everywhere, into every room, outside he is by my side while I garden and even follows the mower while I cut grass. He believes he is my sentry, my loyal protector.

Black Joe still flinches every time someone touches him. When our flag that decorates the front porch pops in the wind, Black Joe hits the ground in a crouch, expecting to feel the burning sting of a BB or pellet. To him a hand meant pain, a foot even worse torture. The longer he lives with us the more he tells us about his life before he came. I have learned many lessons from Joe, and he has returned my attentions and is a devoted, loyal and loving friend. I used to take him to adoption days, assuring my husband that the right person would come along. I don’t even pretend anymore, not to my family or myself, that Joe will ever leave our home. He has a place with our family for as long as he needs it. Even with our countless animals, dogs, horses, rabbit’s fish and turtles, Black Joe holds a very special place in our family.

This is my 10th year with animal rescue and I am still amazed on a daily basis the condition of the animals that are brought to us. Abused, neglected and abandoned dogs and cats will always plague our society. The Georgia Rescue and Rehab, Inc. made up of community professionals and volunteers will continue doing the amazing work necessary in finding each animal a loving family. I just hope that stories like Black Joe’s continue to find their way into the hearts of the people that support us in our quest to make the lives of animals better. For more information on Georgia Rescue and Rehab, Inc, please go to our website at www.garescueandrehab.com or call 706-342-4026.