by Jack Roberts
Nobody knew where this stray, starving dog came from. She roamed our part of town looking for food, checking trash cans and dumpsters, always watching out for those who would do her harm. Her black and tan hide was stretched over a skeleton that revealed every bone in her body. Her tail was down, head low, ears folded flat revealing a beaten down dog that fate had dealt a terrible hand; a stray dog that nobody wanted; a throw away dog.
Each evening at sundown I would take a quart of milk and some cat food and drive two miles to feed a bunch of stray cats that lived behind an abandoned café. One night a black dog showed up desperately hungry, but too wild to come over and eat. I would put out food for her and wait in my car half a block away and watch her eat. If I approached, she ran away. I fed her this way for a year. I named her “Black Dog”. It was obvious that she was nursing some puppies.
One night I followed her and she went back to a vacant field, nearly two miles away, where she had a den with six puppies.
I started taking food and water for her and her puppies twice a day. One day, as a treat, I bought several dozen wieners, heated them in the microwave and gave them to her and the puppies. They were too hot and burned her mouth. She screamed and spit it out. From that time on she would never go near a wiener. Little did we know then that wieners are what the dog catcher used to bait his traps when he tried to catch her. He had been trying to catch her for two years. After that, she would not go near a trap that had wieners in it.
But, the dog catcher did catch all of her puppies and took them away. She sat in that open field for days waiting for her puppies to come home. It was a heartbreaking sight.
I still fed her daily just after sundown to avoid detection from the public although everyone knew about the old man who fed that black dog. People would stop by and ask questions because they had seen me so many times. Even the dog catcher, himself, stopped by one evening and wanted to talk to me. I just walked away and didn’t speak to him.
I had a special call for her and she would come running from a block away and do a little dance to show her excitement. I only fed her the best. After all, her whole life was that one meal. She spent her days laying flat in that open field waiting for sundown and food. She could see anyone approaching and run away.
But it was extremely hot during the summer months and she would try to find the shade of a sunflower plant and dig a small recess in the earth to stay cool. Some days she would jump into the nearby canal for a swim when things were really hot. Her life was endless days of laying in the middle of that field alone.
After I fed her, we would take a long walk along the canal bank together and talk about our day. We walked half a mile down and half a mile back. I was the only contact she had with any living creature and she never wanted our time together to end. She walked behind me in the small path through knee high weeds and would bump her nose against the back of my legs to let me know she was there. I could not catch her and never was able to pet her.
Then, in late November, she had a second litter in an alley near my house. I made arrangements with the owner there to take care of her and her six puppies.
The weather was cold and wet for weeks on end. One puppy died during a rain storm. Black Dog tried to keep them warm and dry and would lay on top of them, but they cried a lot during the nights. A neighbor donated a dog house for them and eventually the Owner of the place moved the dog house into her garage for better protection.
It wasn’t long before someone called animal control and with Black Dog cornered in the garage he was able to catch her. They took her and her puppies to the animal shelter. She had never had any vaccinations against disease and this normally healthy dog caught distemper from some other strays and that was to prove fatal for her.
With the help of the people at the animal shelter we brought her and her five remaining puppies home under a foster arrangement and for the first time Black Dog had a fine bed and plenty to eat. We kept her indoors all the time.
She did her best to take care of her puppies, but four weeks later she died peacefully. Over the next month four more of the puppies also died of distemper. We named the puppies Victoria, Three Toes, Honey Bear and Tugboat. The runt of the litter didn’t even get a name because we didn’t expect him to live.
Well, that little runt of a dog did live and is Black Dog’s only survivor.
We adopted him and named him Rudy. He is a happy, healthy handful of puppy that keeps all of us running. We have a well trained cocker spaniel that has taken him in and is teaching him how to be a dog as well as helping us take care of him. I can see Black Dog in him and he is a delight to have around and my constant companion.
