LUCKY

For a fifteen-year period I had four legged family members. The Two black labs overlapped by 3 years with Ty as my first and Dutch coming along three years later. I never grew up with dogs, living in a NYC apartment that simply did not allow them. In eighth grade I was briefly part of a collective that “owned” a pit bull that was kept in the basement of a building in which my classmate’s father was the superintendent.

One of the seven in the collective was given the pit and we all agreed that we would train him to participate in the dogfighting (Pre-Mike Vick days) that the said classmate’s father held in the basement biweekly, alternating with cockfighting. My participation literally lasted no more than 2 weeks. Our dog was hardly vicious by nature; so we needed to train him…toughen him up. The first week’s focus was strengthening his grip mostly using rope and an old tire. Then I actually saw a dog fight. At twelve years old the barbarism should have been enough to make me voice my concerns, but somehow the sight and sounds generated by all of the money trading hands in the macabre scene deflected any sense of realism as to what I was participating in. That all changed when the next phase of training came into play. A neighborhood stray kitten was found, to be used as bait in creating the dog’s bloodlust. I was done, but my departure was not without dramatic effect, inclusive of a directive that we should not be participants in the brutality of hurting animals. As you can imagine the soliloquy went unheeded and the dog was fought. I saw him after alive but injured. The guy’s agreed at that point to not fight him again. I later learned he was sold to someone else and I am sure considering the community he was sold within he was later put back in the ring.

It was many years later before I ventured back into pet ownership. Interaction with a friend’s dog and the end of a long-term relationship precipitated my need for an addition to my life. Ty and later Dutch ended up having a profound impact on my life. I lost much of the jadedness that comes with being born and raised in NYC. I became the dog person I had previously laughed at, talking about their antics and personalities as if they were my first and second born. The fact is they did become my family, essentially my kids and their respective deaths both at 12 years from cancer and kidney failure ended up impacting me more than I could have ever imagined.

I recall having a conversation with someone when I was 23 or 24 and the topic was how many funerals I had attended. The reaction to my mention of approximately one hundred was the first indication that perhaps the number was not the norm. The topic had taken place upon my resolution that I was going to simply stop going to funerals because I was disturbed by own lack of emotion and the awkwardness I felt in consistently giving emotionless and seemingly empty condolences.

Well Ty and Dutch’s passing left a void. One that for the longest I did not realize existed. I was well aware I missed them, with thoughts of them ever-present daily, however, it was another unfortunate situation that highlighted how significant the losses really were. I am not a fan of cats. I don’t dislike them in any form, I guess just as a “dog” person I just don’t really get cats. My girlfriend had a cat when we first met. I routinely looked in after her when she traveled and Moo Moo and I developed an understanding. When my girlfriend moved in the cat was sent to live with her mother. However, a year or so later the cat came to live with us. I won’t lie the cat quickly grew on me. Her quirks were amusing and the new life bred into the house reenergized “the boys’” presence in the house. Unfortunately, for reasons we never learned Moo just did not return one day from her usual jaunts within my community. Searches throughout the neighborhood as well as to the county shelters proved unsuccessful. A week later the groundskeeper phoned me with the bad news.

My girlfriend’s grief was understandable, and after a few days I suggested the one thing that I wish I had done three years earlier. It did not help matters that this all happened near Christmas time. We ventured back to the county shelter. I assumed we were going to come back with a kitten. To be honest I wasn’t thrilled by that fact, but knew she needed that presence in her life. She was playing with one particular kitten and I ventured into a nearby room of dogs. That particular part of the shelter was supposed to be for newer arrivals who had not reached the adoptable timeline. My presence caused a commotion and my girlfriend soon entered. One particular dog drew her attention simply because he was the only one not barking.

He was a sad looking fellow severely emaciated. He barely responded to us instead focused on one of the workers who was walking over. The worker gave us a little background, stating that he had been there 10 days and since the usual adoptable hold was only five days and he was not transferred over to that section he did not think it looked good. As severely emaciated as the dog was, he was significantly worse when he initially came in. He was labeled food aggressive, but if you had not eaten in what they thought was several weeks to a month, wouldn’t you? Against regulations he took him out of the cage and to a parking lot to allow us to interact with him. My girl was hooked.

I had had two of the most beautiful pure-bred labs one has ever seen. This one was no immediate looker (Think Kate Moss on a hunger strike- to those too young to know who Kate Moss is Google her then imagine her twenty pounds lighter…). Yet I agreed there was something about him. We were not immediately able to take him home, because he had to be neutered. I came back a few days later and was told there were complications. I was allowed to see him and was not prepared for the sight. He had developed a serious infection following the surgery. The cone was too small in preventing him from reaching his incisions and let me just say it was not a pretty sight. Though he was neutered he appeared as if he had horse sized testicles, so inflamed he yelped every time he sat. It was another week before I was allowed to take him home, and even once released he was in the same condition. The problem was at night when no one was there he was going to town on his injured areas so they thought my willingness to supervise 24 hours was a better alternative.

He arrived home, cone in tow, with an elephant uni-ball. His tail was open from being chewed raw so it was heavily bandaged. Our first 30 days were exhausting. 12 separate trips were made back to the vet in order to re-bandage, receive medication and checkups. My house was a perpetual CSI episode as he profusely bled from either the testicle area or his tail hitting nearly every wall in the house.

After two months he was fully healed and 77 pounds, 10 pounds more than upon his arrival. I nicknamed him Johnny Handsome after an old Mickey Rourke movie in which a disfigured man is transformed after extensive plastic surgery. He was starting to fill out and was looking far from sad. Though unsure, we believe he is part Cane Corso (Italian Mastiff) and part Pit. We are unsure of his age. The vet said 3 but he acted so much like a puppy under one, clumsy, with huge paws that had not calloused at all.

As each month passed it was more and more clear who came into whose life with greater purpose. I had learned so much from my time with Ty and Dutch and as I promised myself in moments of introspection I was more patient. The puppy qualities came with moments of extreme rambunctiousness but the reward was a friendly, happy dog, with a great personality.

Today he is 120 pounds, beautiful, happy. He scares many with his brindle color and size, but once they meet him fears turn to fandom. He is so well behaved he walks off leash almost exclusively. I put it on only out of respect for people’s fear for themselves or their own pets, but even then its just momentary. Oh, and Johnny Handsome’s name is Lucky.

His escape from the potential of impending death would be the easy tell, but even then I knew we were the ones befitting of his name choice. You know what, every now and then I am not wrong.

#nationaldogday

#adoptdontshop