A Bumper Crop

Sir Richard has done it again. 

He reported a sad-looking mother dog scrounging food along the roadways.  He has been observing her actions for a few weeks, and finally found where she had her nest of puppies.  It was under an old house, the kind of old house that sits up on brick piers, and has been a popular form of house construction, until the advent of poured concrete slabs.  From what he could tell, there were perhaps four puppies.  He managed to crawl under and pull them out, but while he was retrieving the last puppy, the collector neighbors came along and wanted their children to hold the puppy.  Richard let them, the children put the puppy on the ground, and the little wild thing skittered away under the underbrush.

A few days later, someone reported a puppy under another old abandoned house.  Richard set the now infamous dog trap, and after several days trapped the pup.   But.  Heard puppy sounds yet from under the house.  Great.  Another puppy.  Now we’re up to five.  Richard kept setting the trap, and his constant coming-and-going and checking of the trap was annoying some of the neighbors in a near-by trailer.  Methinks they were up to no good in this little village of drugs and dog-fighting, but perhaps they were only mentally ill.  Anyway, after a few days, no puppy, so he figured that the poor pup had moved on.

Last week, on Mother’s Day, the BabyBoy and I went to see Mama Florrie.  One of her grown sons, One-Eyed Edgar, reported a puppy under their shed.  We relayed that info to Richard who set the trap there, and caught, not one, but two puppies. 

So this past Sunday, The Sugar and I went to fetch puppies.  We took four, and left the two wilder ones with Richard for the time being.  We set up a dog house in the turtle yard (Kyle has moved on), and they hid in it in a big heap of fear.  On Monday, they got an exam and their first vaccination, and I delivered them to the shelter. 

The pups were not far from being feral.  They were born into the wild, eating whatever garbage they could, and hiding at the slightest sound.  They had perhaps not actually seen people, since they were constantly on the run, and didn’t know what the touch of a human felt like.  The smallest one made frantic biting gestures from solid fear, like we were going to eat him and he was defending himself. 

No pictures.  Too sad to photograph.

(Update:  Last evening Richard reported that Kenny, a local alcoholic who sits down at the store on the old propane tank & drinks beer, saw *two* puppies under an abandoned building next to the store.  Yup.  Same litter.)

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One Response to “A Bumper Crop”

  1. Kari Says:

    I am so thankful for your kindness to animals.


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