This is my second story I am placing on here on this website. The first was “An Angel Named Missy.” Well, this story is kind of connected to that one. After my St. Bernard/Lab mix, Missy was put to sleep because of cancer about a year after she saved my life, I was dog – less, as I called it. Well, I decided to get another dog, but I couldn’t find a dog that I liked. I guess a part of me was trying to find another “Missy” dog, which I, like all owners find out after the death one great dog, is impossible.
Well, my mom and her new husband, Mark, had a Chinese Sharp Pei named “Maylee”, which they had had for years. Being irresponsible dog owners(I never have/never will live with them) they never got Maylee spayed, and, seeing as she was tied outside 24/7, always was pregnant. Well, one day their male dog, named “Fat Boy” got Maylee, the Chinese Shar Pei pregnant. FatBoy was an Old English Bulldog,
and he was a huge dog.
Anyways, a few weeks later, a litter of puppies was born. Out of those was a black and white male, the second largest in the litter, the first being a tan female. There was also a tan, black, and white one. I took the tan, black and white one, and named him Blaze. Blaze later went to live with my gym teacher. As far as I know, he still lives with her. My friend Veronica took the largest female and named her “Sadie.” Now, Mark and my mother decided to keep the black and white male, the one I had wanted, but they wouldn’t let me have him, claiming they wanted him. Well, his name was “Pugsly” which didn’t fit him at all.
He grew into a handsome dog.
“Pugsly” was kept in a 6 by 12 kennel in the back of the yard from the time he was 4 months,
up until 2 years old. “Puglsy’s” life was a living hell. He should have weighed 55-60 lbs, he only weighed about 35-40. He was severely underweight, only being fed when the kids who were about nine and seven felt like taking the time out to go and feed him. His water was given to him in a bucket encrusted with mud, and he didn’t know his name, how to walk on a leash, sit, and he wasn’t even housebroken. “Pugsly” was never taken inside the house. His kennel was always muddy, and was so full of feces that you couldn’t tell the mud apart from the dog crap. The kennel in which was his prison was sinking into the ground, and he was always miserable: being covered with mud, stinking, and being kicked, hit, starved, neglected and abused. The dewclaws on his feet were never clipped, and they were growing into his legs. Having never been on gravel or cement, his pads were soft and pink, not hard like they should be.
Well, since the death of Missy, I had been thinking of getting another dog. I was wanting a male dog, and one that really needed a home. On a visit to the house, I noticed that everybody was complaining about the dog they called “Pugsly” so I went out and saw the dog that I had been wanting since he was four weeks. I finally gained the courage to call and ask if they would be willing to get rid of “Pugsly”. Lucky for me, and for the dog, they were more than glad to be rid of him. I went up with a leash and put it around his neck. I got stuck in the mud and feces that filled his kennel, and it took me about a minute and
a half to get myself unstuck.
“Pugsly” stunk terribly. He was horribly dirty, and you couldn’t tell he was white with black markings- he looked white with dirty brown from feces. I took him home, fed him up, and bathed him. It turns out that “Pugsly” was worse then I thought. He had never been to a vet, even though he was 2 years old. He didn’t have any shots done, wasn’t altered, and had flea bites and dirt on him. I bathed him with dog flea shampoo. It took me three times with the flea shampoo before he was critter free. I then bathed him with Pantene Pro V to get him smelling at least partly decent. “Pugsly’s” feet were dyed yellow from walking in his own feces, and you couldn’t touch him without causing him to flinch. He didn’t know how to accept love or affection, and
was scared of everything.
It took me twelve minutes to find out I could not have a dog named with the stupid name “Pugsly”. It is a good name for certain dogs, but not a large dog like “Pugsly”. So, he was renamed. He had many names before we finally decided on the name “BUCKBEAK”, which I got from my favorite set of books, “Harry Potter”. I decided on that name because in the 3rd Harry Potter books, a Hippogriff attacked Draco Malfoy, and I thought that name was cool. So we call him “Buck” for short,
but mostly it is Buckbeak.
Well, now Buckbeak is properly named, altered, up to date on shots, happy, well trained, well fed, taken care of, and is an indoor dog. He is my buddy, and even has a room mostly to himself, shared only by his other dog “brother”, me, the family cats, and on occasion, my friend Madison Greer, who he considers his other owner.
When Madison is there, he is her dog.
This is just one example of a good ending, but please remember that not all dogs have happy endings. If you see ANIMAL CRUELTY going on, please remember that it is a LIVING, BREATHING, HEART AND BLOOD PUMPING LIFE THAT IS SUFFERING – THEY CANT TURN IN THEIR OWNERS, NOR HELP THEMSELVES, AND THEY DON’T DESERVE THIS KIND OF TREATMENT. WE WERE TOLD BY OUR VETS THAT IF BUCKBEAK HAD BEEN IN THAT CONDITION FOR ANOTHER MONTH, HE WOULD HAVE DIED. PLEASE, IF YOU SEE THIS GOING ON, REMEMBER YOU HAVE THE CHANCE TO HELP ONE OF GOD’S CREATURES. YOU HAVE THE POWER TO SAVE A LIFE!!!!!!!!!
For Buckbeak's Memory,
| Buckbeak |
| Cyrstal Ann Camps |