Sweet story - Page 1

I was finally cleaning out my email and came across this heart breaking story sent by a friend.  She runs a personal rescue out of her house and is one of the most caring animal lovers I know of.  She sent this to me in August of '06 and it's her own personal experience, very touching and I thought some may enjoy knowing there are people like her out there championing the abused and neglected animals:

Hello all,

I just wanted to let you know that I lost my precious Tiny Tim last Thursday. He went down that morning and could not get up. I had to get my two neighbors, Bill and Joan Bridge to each take a corner of the blanket to help me carry him to my van. At the vet's, the x-ray showed the tell-tale signs of a mangiosarcoma--tumor--and even though he was alert and functioning then, it would be a steep downhill for him thereafter. And besides, I couldn't have lifted his 103 pounds to carry him outside and care for him even if I had wanted to wait. I decided to end his suffering.

Tiny came to me in 1998 from the SPCA where he had been taken after being abused and abandoned in Chester. His front leg was injured and the vet that they had look at it thought it would have to be amputated. Needless to say, he was put on the list to be destroyed. Alicia called me in tears and asked me to help, so that is how I got involved.

Tiny loved it there at the shelter. They were feeding him, Alicia had been walking him, and no one was yelling or hitting him, so he thought that it was a dandy place. He would jump up and lick their faces. And he was _so_ beautiful. A long-haired shepherd--or maybe part chow or malamute, with a luxurious black coat and tan markings. When I took him to the vet, the surgeon, Dr. Sadanaga, said that Tiny would have to have the leg amputated and he offered to do it for free! The Frasier Hospital, however, did not, and their cost would be $900. Of course, the director of the SPCA wasn't going for that, so I offered to raise the money by telling Tiny's story to the press. John Roman, who wrote the Good News page in the /Daily Time/s interviewed me and sent out a photographer to take our picture. It was great--a headshot of Tiny licking my face! Checks started pouring in and we ended up raising almost $3,000 for the Second Chance fund!

Once the story appeared, about five people expressed an interest in adopting Tiny.  I eliminated three, and visited two, neither of which worked out. By this time, Tiny Tim was home with me and I was discovering that he had some serious aggression problems in consequence of his abuse in Chester. He was food aggressive, because he had been starved, and if I put my hand on his back, he whipped around and tried to defend himself by biting me. That settled it. I always keep any dogs with aggression problems (as 10 of my 16 dogs exhibited). With me, they were no longer problems. I worked with Tiny for about four months, winning his trust with kindness and love. Unlike people who have been abused, he overcame that early trauma and became a loving boy. Eventually, my neighbors lost their fear of him as he followed me around and sometimes they let him jump up on them and lick their faces. He actually turned out to be a big wus--he barked and hopped around on his three legs with the other dogs, but was totally pussy-whipped by Baby, and got along fine with the others. He even stopped chasing cats after a year or so and loved being upstairs with me and all the cats.

So he had eight good years. I sat on the floor at the vet's and held him. As soon as I had walked in, he had started giving me those little high-pitched barks and looking at the door as if to say,"Come on, Mom, let's high tail it out of here!" I pulled him over into my lap and sang our little song to him, "Tin-y Tim! I love him...Tiny Tiny Tiny Tim." And he was gone.

I miss

Sorry about that, I must have hit send twice.  Oh well, it's worth sharing more than once.

....awwwww

CONTINUED...I miss him terribly. I am still crying every day, finding poufs of his fur here and there. I told the vet, young Dr. Brooks, and the technician, that to me, Tiny represented the triumph of love over cruelty. Despite his terrible beginnings, left outside on the hard ground with little food, being hit and hollered at, and fending for himself, Tiny became a trusting, loving boy. He always licked my face. He let me hold his food dish for him and get my fingers in there to push the food into one spot for him, He eventually let me check his ears and clean and medicate them. I think he had a happy life. He may have enjoyed being an only child at times, but on the other hand, he sure liked to go hopping outside with his buddies, barking and whirling about, unable to run with them, but able to get a nip in here and there as they whizzed by. He never stopped barking. John next door wanted me to get one of those shock collars for him to stop the barking. Can you imagine! I said "Absolutely not! Tiny has had enough pain in his life--he's not going to have any more as long as he is with me!" I think he was happy. He sure was loved. I think about that Rainbow Bridge and fantasize that it is real and that someday I will cross the bridge and there he will be, with Uncle Regie and all the others in Regie's care until I can get there...and I know this, he will be barking!

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Carol M. Thon, M.S.
Coordinator
Department of Education & Human Services
Villanova University