In 1969 my grandmother purchased a sable and white Sheltie puppy, and when I saw M’Lass, that was it–love at first sight! I began my search for a Sheltie right then.
Shortly afterwards a veterinarian friend called and told me that he had a sweet little Sheltie that had been found almost dead on the street with her young pups. He said he should put her to sleep, but after the courage the little girl had shown he couldn’t.
It turned out that she had come from a puppy mill, but because someone had made a mistake and let her get in with the Schnauzer her pups were mixed breeds, and therefore she was “ruined” (thank Heaven for old wive’s tales!). They threw her and her pups out to die, and when she persisted in returning her family to the only place (one could not call it a “home”!) she knew, they shot her.
She dragged her pups to the highway, and was found by a passing motorist. At the time he stopped there were 3 pups at the side of the road, but when he tried to catch the mother, she ran away, reappearing a short time later with a 4th pup. The gentleman picked them up and took her to the animal shelter where my friend was the veterinarian, as well as director of county animal control.
When animal control investigated, they found dogs in tiny chicken wire pens with no food or food dishes in evidence, and only thick mud , if anything, in the bottom of their water dishes. All of the dogs, along with their AKC registration papers were confiscated.
My friend, knowing I wanted a Sheltie, then called and asked if I could take her and let her live out her last few days loved. I gladly took her, despite the fact that any resemblance between her and a Sheltie was purely fictional. She was 7 pounds at 14 inches, hairless, black with mud and blood, and so weak she could barely stand, and
this was her fifth litter (at age 3).
I bathed her (and was totally shocked to discover she was a prettily marked sable and white), dressed her wounds, put her into the bed my husband had made for her, and named her Jubilee.
I hand-fed her baby food until she gained enough strength to eat on her own. After a week she was still alive, and even beginning to gain weight.
But she had two open sores that wouldn’t heal, despite all the care I (I am a surgical nurse) gave her so when she was stronger she went back to the vet. It turned out that there were bullets still in the wounds they had made. They performed surgery on Jubilee to remove the bullets. After that, her recovery progressed rapidly.
She lived to the ripe old age of 16 1/2
as a dearly beloved pet to myself,
my daughter and son.
You were my heart dog and will continue to live there until I come to get you to cross the bridge to
| Princess Jubilee of Saratoga |
| Pamela Marshall |