I apologize for such graphic pictures, but I’m not sugarcoating this.
Today while I was working at the barn, I saw this dog on the way back from a ride. He stood up and walked very cautiously over to the horses, but he didn’t come very close. He didn’t bark or growl, he just stood there. I couldn’t leave him there, I had to go back and get him with my car.
I got out of my car and walked slowly up to him. He put his head down and came towards me without my calling or anything. He sat down next to me (I didn’t pet him because he clearly has bad mange) and wagged his tail. He looked at me with his pretty blue-green eyes full of hope and I think he knew he would be ok.
I called every nearby animal control number and the Houston Humane Society right down the road. I had to go through so many menu options before I finally left a message… None of them have called me back, about eight hours later.
I took matters into my own hands. I didn’t want to put him in my car because I transport my own dog, but I couldn’t just leave him. I figured there would be some way to sanitize my car so I gave in and called someone at the barn to help me get him in my car. He’s a small dog, but he has scabs all over his body and I wanted someone with gloves.
Anyways, I drove about five minutes to Houston Humane and the first thing the admissions lady told me is that they’ll hold him for three days and if no one claims him, they’ll put him down. Nope, that’s not gonna happen. I asked her where else I could take him and she gave me the number and address of BARC. I thanked her and got some gloves from her and loaded him back up in my car for the 45-minute drive to BARC.
They shuffled me around everywhere at BARC. I went through the door that said, “Entrance” and the guy made me go back through the “Exit” door. I know this doesn’t seem like much, but this puppy could hardly walk. He stumbled as if he were drunk and would occasionally just plop down. They determined he was too sick for him to be in the main building with all the other dogs, so I had to load him back up in my car and drive him to the rear entrance.
Some kind volunteers directed me to the vet building, and I waited in there for a vet tech for about 15 minutes. I sat next to him and talked to him. I told him over and over that he would be ok and I wouldn’t let anything happen to him. I told him he’s going to make an amazing pet someday and he’s in a safe place. I promised him.
The exhausted-looking vet tech came out, took my driver’s license (which they had already done at the front..) and entered me into “the system.” Then she came back over to me and the dog, whom I had named JoJo, and informed me of his fate. She said two very conflicting things and I’m still confused. First, she said that they’ll wait three days for someone to claim him, then have him evaluated by a vet and put him up for adoption if he’s not aggressive (which he clearly wasn’t). Good news, right? Then she said they’ll wait three days for someone to claim him and then euthanize him. I kept trying to clear this up with her and determine which one she meant because she wasn’t making sense, but I never got a clear answer. I’m pretty sure the answer is more towards the second option than the first.
Then I got mad. I asked her why the hell I took him there if they’re just going to kill him, just like they would’ve at Houston Humane. She shrugged and I said, “Ok well thanks,” and left with tears welling up.
I pretended to text on the way back to my car so the volunteers wouldn’t ask what was wrong. I got to my car and broke down crying for poor little JoJo. All I could think about was how amazing he’d be as someone’s dog and how I had promised him over and over that he’d be ok. I called Christy (the barn manager, we kept in contact the whole time so she knew what was going on) and told her the news and she got mad, too. She kept saying, “Why the hell do they call themselves a no-kill when they clearly do if the dog is the slightest bit sick? They’re not going to do ANYTHING for him?” My thoughts exactly.
I drove home crying and took a nice, hot shower. Christy had called me again while I was in the shower so I called her back and she had some good news for me. She knows a woman who brought a stray like JoJo into BARC, donated some money for his initial treatments, and then fostered him (and later ended up adopting him). Christy is actually offering to donate $250 to help him and she knows another woman who loves pitbulls and is already offering to foster him.
I’m not begging everyone to reblog this, though that would be appreciated. I’m not gonna hate you if you don’t. I won’t be mad if no one offers a little cash for his initial treatment. But it would make me and JoJo feel a lot better if you did.
We have until Thursday to figure all of this out. This dog needs a miracle, but Christy and I won’t stop until he gets his miracle.
P.S. To whoever did this to this dog - I sincerely hope you suffer equally as much as he did/does/will. I hope you find out how it feels to have someone give up on you, and that no one gives you a second chance. I know you’re out there because he has a collar and he’s neutered. It makes me sick to know that you exist.
The Straw That Can Save Lives
Danish water purification company Vestergaard Frandsen’s latest development could very possibly save millions of lives of those who struggle to find and produce clean water.
Their invention is the LifeStraw, a low-tech, low-hassle personal water filter that enables the user to simply stick one end into a water source of questionable cleanliness, such as a river, and suck. Several layers within the straw manage to filter out 99% of bacteria and viruses. Previously, people of areas with little clean water would be forced to boil water to ensure its safety, using up other resources in the process. With this invention, little maintenance would be required, and it could last for a year or two.
In addition to the personal filter, the company has developed a LifeStraw Family, which uses gravity rather than suction to filter water. By hanging this up in their homes and filling it with water, families would be able to open the bottom for clean, safe water.
These products do, however, have their limitations. While 99% of pathogens are removed, the filter is unable to prevent Giardia Lamblia from entering the filtered water, as this particular parasite is too small for the filters. The company is diligently working on a solution to this problem. Another potential problem is availability, since Vestergaard Frandsen is a small, struggling company that cannot quite afford to give out too many handouts.
Hopefully these problems can be overcome, as this product, in its current state, and especially once perfected, has the potential for aiding many who need it most.
Makes you look pretty fucking heartless if you are homophobic or supported Prop 8, doesn’t it?
will always reblog.
LET ME JUST
ADD THE SOURCE FOR YOU
this is just heartbreaking…
This happens all the time, it’s horrible.
oh my god. :’(
So, a few months I got a nice pair of horseback riding boots. Ariat boots, if you know your horse stuff, Ariat’s are a very good brand. Well a few weeks ago, while working with the horses at the barn I go to, I got stepped on the foot by our biggest horse there. My boot and foot, miraculously were fine….
…until today. My boot decided that hey, this weekend is work day….I’m not doing it!!! So what does it do? It breaks…in an interesting way. The zipper zipped quite fine, until I took a step. Then it was like, “Ha, I will stay on your foot but I will unzip…in the middle!”
Yes folks, in the middle. It stayed zipped at the bottom and at the top, in one piece. BUT my poor foot was exposed to the world in my bright blue fuzzy socks, down the middle.
So I go the day walking like this cause it’s stubborn and won’t zip down so I can fix it. Not even my super-amazingly skilled friend Dao could manage this one, nearly taking my foot off in the process of pulling. So in the end I take the train home and somehow go to my wonderful Twin and her father.
Now here’s the question, how many people and objects does it take to take the boot off?
The answer is two….plus a set of pliers….and the loss of finger movement….and feeling in the foot.
For ten minutes my wonderful friends struggled…eventually we gave up and ripped the zipper off and freed my foot.
So now, my boot is missing the pull-tag for the zipper and many poor teeth. It will never be the same…or wearable again! My poor boot!