4 posts tagged “remington”
A crackling fire in the fireplace, warm sunbeam, a pillow for your head.
Is there anything more needed on a cold Winter's day?
OMG, 15 minutes to deadline. Lets see if I can do it without sacrificing the art shall we?
What a crazy night. Didn't make the deadline (just finished and it is 1 am) I'll still make a 12/04/07 post though don't worry. And it'll be something fun, I promise.
Remington's Story Part 3
He was exhausted, hungry, and so very thirsty, but terror compelled him to keep moving. After a year of shelter living he was feeling the earth and grass beneath his feet once more. He ran to the fence line and followed it around and back again, staying as far away from the people who'd brought him here and the building within the confines of the fence. This pen was much larger than any he had ever been in before. Running here made him feel almost, free. He remembered a brief moment when one night he'd bolted at the shelter and made it outside before anyone could catch him. He'd been running across a dark field of tall grass when the night sky above him exploded in roars and brilliant flashes of light. He'd found the smallest place to hide himself under an junked car, and spent an agonizing time cowering and howling in fear as the county's annual fireworks display blasted his senses beyond comprehension.
A family walking back from the show to their car drew him out with their voices, especially one so like the little girl he had once known. He crawled out from underneath the car and advanced cautiously toward them. The little girl playfully teased her father and he pretended to swat at her. The dog growled, low and deep in his throat. Remembering another father and another little girl, and what the raising of a hand meant. The father pushed his family behind him, yelled "Stay back!" He then proceeded to defend his family from the mad dog he thought was before him, kicking the dog with all his strength. Noticing the commotion a police officer on traffic duty ran over and pulled the father back.
"It's alright, he's one of the shelter dogs, must've gotten loose during the show." The man blustered insisting the vicious animal be put down with the officer's gun then and there.
"Calm down! Let me get him back to the shelter and then we'll see what to do." He reached out a hand to take the dog's collar but stopped short as the dog growled, menancing like a distant thunder.
"Easy boy, no one's gonna hurt you now."
But the dog was done in, he just didn't know who to trust any more. He lay there with his belly in the cool evening grass and growled in warning at anyone who approached him. Even his favorite shelter worker, a young woman who'd named him Remington couldn't get him to let her near. In the hopes the strength of the name would give the pup some strength to go on despite the pain life had caused him so far.
Finally they subdued him with a noose and wrestled him back into a kennel. All the efforts of the young woman in the past year in rehabilitating him were undone in that single night. He lost interest in eating, began scratching and biting at himself incessantly, or just lay in the kennel staring at nothing.
He didn't even notice the flurry of activity in the shelter. Dogs leaving and no new ones coming in. Too many to count going down the hall to the sleeping room. If he'd listened he would have heard the shelter workers murmering things like, "... funds in the budget...closing soon...euthanize if we don't get them homes soon."
The young woman who'd named him couldn't let Remington go to the sleeping room. Somehow she knew that inside that bundle of nerves there was a very loving dog waiting to find a place where he could be loved too.
She picked up the phone and called a friend who knew someone in a greyhound rescue group. Maybe, just maybe she could presuade them to take him. He'd lost so much weight, not that he'd started with so much when he first came to the shelter. Maybe she could convince them he was a greyhound mix...
When her friend called back with the good news she hurried over to Remington's kennel and slid his description card out of it's sleeve and replaced it with a new one. Where the old one had read, "Coonhound" the new said, "Greyhound Mix".
The next day a young man came with a station wagon equipped with a rear crate. The staff veterinarian sedated Remington. After they'd loaded him into the crate the young woman said goodbye to Remington with a stroke of his velvety ears. She watched the wagon drive away, sighed and went back inside to begin the task of finding as many homes for the remaining dogs as she could before the shelter closed for good.
Remington ran. He ran until finally he could no longer resist the bowls of food and water set near to the path he'd been following in this huge pen. The people who'd placed them there were out of sight, having gone into the building, leaving him to run. After he drank his fill he collapsed exhausted by the bowl of food and took a few bites. Still on guard for the people and other unkown dangers. He dozed for a while when he heard the door to the yard open and close.
He sprang to his feet ready to run when around the corner came a woman and a little girl. The woman was holding the little girl's hand and was talking to her in a quiet voice.
"This is Remington. He's very scared. We need to be extra careful with him so he can learn we won't hurt him."
The little girl stared at him, he stared back, after a long moment he broke away and ran to the farthest corner of the yard and watched them warily. The woman and the little girl remained a while longer just looking at him but making no moves to come closer. The little girl eventually returned inside and the woman lingered. She spoke softly to Remington, telling him it was going to be ok, that she was sorry for all the bad things that had happened to him.
When he got too nervous with her there and started pacing the far corner she returned to the house.
As night came on it was getting cold. Colder than he'd ever felt before. This place was so different! He was nearly ready to find a safe place to lie down when three people came outside. One was a large man, as tall as that first man he'd known. Remington started shaking and ran again for the farthest corner of the yard.
The Man followed him! Here it was coming, he was going to hurt him and lock him in a small place again. Remington ran for the other corner, but another person was there, another woman, different from the one earlier.
He ran to a third corner but there was the other woman. Slowly they herded him to the smallest part of the yard, he was nearly blind with panic when he saw an opening in the house. Maybe he could get away from them through another opening in there! He ran for the opening and ran throughout the house, there, another opening, he dashed through it only to realize too late he was trapped in a large room with a big soft looking box in the middle of it and some hard boxes along the walls. The woman from earlier was behind him, shutting the door. He dove for a narrow opening under one of the boxes along the wall. He made himself as small as possible in an effort to hide from the woman.
She sat on the soft box and began talking to him. Her voice was soft and somehow comforting. She told him again that he was safe and if he liked sleeping under her dresser that was ok, but when he was ready she had a nice soft warm dog bed for him. The woman lay down in the soft box and said Goodnight.
Remington lay awake a long time after she'd turned out the light. Once his heart had stopped racing he listened to the night noises and took in the room's scents. He could smell other dogs which he had not yet seen. He could smell that they were on the other side of that closed door and were not happy to be shut out there away from the woman. Incredible, they actually wanted to be close to a human? Eventually he slept. Several times during the night he awoke from a nightmare to hear the woman's voice talking and singing to him. Somehow that soothed his nerves and he was able to go back to sleep again.
Maybe the woman was right, maybe he really was safe here. Maybe those other dogs on the other side of the door have a good reason for wanting to be near this woman. Time would tell. And something told him that he was going to have plenty of time here to figure it out.
The End/
From this point this is what happened, we've had Remington for long enough now that he does trust us. It was something that was not easily given by him, nor earned by us. He still starts easily if you move too quickly. We no longer have to herd him inside or outside. Thank goodness. He seeks out affection now. And where he was once most terrified of my husband he will now actually go to him whenever he's really afraid (such as during Thunderstorms). It took a lot of patience and love to get Remington to where he is today. We would sit beside him when he was hiding under the dresser and talk to him, and I would even sing to him. We knew we were getting somewhere when instead of shivering in fear he started thumping his tail when we would talk to him. He would still hide, but he was showing us he was happy to see us and to hear our voices. After about 6 months we started making him stay out of the bedroom during the day. At first he cowered in the farthest corner away from us and ran if we approached him, but eventually he started to warm up to us. To me the biggest breaking point was the day I was playing outside with our dog Dusty and Remington came and joined in, he ran away almost instantly but he actually tagged me! I will not lie, my heart just about burst that day it was so wonderful.
He's still got some issues, can't tolerate having strangers in the house very much but he's slowly getting better about that too. We are very happy and lucky to have him in our family.
I'm doing today's entry a bit early as I lucked out and had the whole house to myself for a while today. Gotta love Grandma's House! :-) Anyway, I'm going to pick up Remington's Story and repeat again that this is all 100% speculation on my part. As the story progresses to the point where Remington comes into contact with the folks that rescued him I hope it will clear up any questions you might have about whether or not any of what I've written is true. But the only true part of this story is where Remington was rescued and was brought to us and how he became a part of our family. The rest is just made up out of my overly vivid imagination. Maybe I'm mentally placing the person(s) who did hurt Remington (in what ever way they did) into this story and that some where along the way they got their just rewards. And remember it does have a happy ending for Remington and for our family.
Remington's Story Part 2:
The little girl sobbed. "Daddy, please I'm sorry I won't do it no more! Don't! Its not his fault, really!"
Her father loomed over her holding a struggling puppy by its scruff.
"I told you these pups are not for playing with!" He puncuated each word with a vicious shake of the puppy. Causing both the girl and puppy to yelp.
"Now this one is spoilt. Ain't gonna do me any good for huntin' or sellin'."
Loaded in the holster at his hip a cell phone rang.
"Hush up now or I'll give you somethin to really cry about. Now git inside!" He shoed the crying child away. With his free hand he grabbed the cell, "Yeah?" Listening for a moment he swore and said, "Alright, I'll be there."
Striding across the unkempt yard he flung the puppy into a filthy cement floored pen.
"I'll have to take care of you later." He went back to the house and announced "I'm going to town, Jack got himself locked up again, gotta bail him out." He started for his truck, paused and added, "And keep that young'un away from the pups! If she don't I'll make her take care of the next one she messes with!" Still swearing under his breath he jumped into a pickup truck and sped away.
The puppy was silent and still on the floor of the pen. He didn't know what was going to happen to him but he knew that whenever there was another puppy or dog in this particular pen they soon disappeared. He was hungry and sore, and so lonely. The little girl had been so kind to him, feeding him tidbits she'd saved and sneaked out to him. She took him out of the puppy pen whenever she could and played with him in the warm sunshine. Her gentle touch and sweet voice made him yearn for something he didn't quite understand. All his short life every human hand upon him brought pain and confusion. This one brought something else. He sighed. He'd probably never see her again. Her father was so angry. He'd just started to doze when he heard the creaking of the pen's gate. There was the little girl! Her face was still streaked with tears and her eyes were red and swollen but the look on her face was resolute.
"I'm not going to let him kill you pup. Not this time." The little girl had been drawn to this puppy from the first time she'd seen him being placed in the weaned pen. She bent over and gently picked up the puppy. Exitign the pen she walked over to her bicyle with its woven plastic basket on the front. Placing him in the basket alongside a coil of rope, she mounted the bike and rode out of the yard.
The woods were quiet with sunlight streaming down like search lights as she rode a path used by her and her brothers all year long except for hunting season. Hunting season they stayed indoors.
As she pedaled she talked to the puppy. "I can't keep you or hide you.
But maybe I can get someone else to take you in.
Daddy went to bail out uncle Jack so he'll be gone a while an he usually takes the back roads when he comes back from town. 'Specially when he's mad, on account he drives so fast when he's mad.
So I'll leave you by the south highway and maybe one of the people driving by will take you in.
You've got such a sweet face, someone's got to love you like I do."
After a lenghty ride they arrived at their destination, the girl leaned her bike against a tree just out of sight of those driving by on the busy highway. She watched the traffic as she tied the rope around the puppy's neck.
"I'm sorry to tie you up Pup but can't have you running into that busy road." She took advantage of a long lull inbetween vehicles to dart out and tie him to a slender tree visible from the road.
Without looking back she ran back to her bicyle in the woods and rode away.
The puppy struggled and strained, yelping and barking for her to come back to him. This was terrifying. Even worse than being alone in the pens. Cars and trucks roared past, hurting his ears.
Driving along the highway was the girl's father. He was in a rare fury. His usual route home was blocked by construction detours and his brother was passed out drunk in the cab next to him. Cost him a pretty penny to spring him this time. The spedometer was rising faster and faster, he knew he was pushing his luck that the highway patrol was going to catch him but he needed to vent some of his fury. At least he had the pup to take the worst of it out on waiting for him at home. Hopefully it would keep him from getting too rough with his wife this time. Too many more missed days at work and she'll be losing that job of hers and then where would they be? He was nearing the exit to take him home when his eyes caught something on the side of the road up ahead. A pup? Tied to a tree? Looked like it might be a redbone too! Could be worth his while to sell it and make up what he lost today bailing out Jack. Too late he realized his speed was too great to stop easily and he passed the pup. (Yes! It was a redbone!)
He started to slow down so he could swerve off onto the shoulder thinking he'd run in reverse back to the pup when he looked into his rearview mirror and swore. Someone was stopping by the pup! He didn't notice that his wheels had left the asphalt and were into the gravel of the shoulder. The sudden slipping change in traction startled him and he turned the wheel too quickly while slamming on his breaks. The truck shuddered and skidded into a spin before rolling and bouncing off of the shoulder and into a copse of trees.
Back at the tree the puppy was eying the stranger who'd stopped their car near him warily. Suddenly there was a tremenous roar and screeching of metal. The stranger gasped and said, "Oh my God!" then sprinted away further down the road toward a mangled vehicle lost in a cloud of felled trees and black oily smoke. A thunderous boom filled the air as the truck exploded before anyone could reach it.
The puppy cowered and yowled in fear at the sound. The stranger, a woman came back to him sobbing.
"I stopped to help this little guy" she told a police officer who came to take her statement later "and that truck just went out of control up ahead and crashed into the trees." She was sitting in her car holding the puppy. The wailing sirens of fire trucks and ambulances had ceased. The fire was out but the air was filled with the oily burning smell.
"Do you think they were trying to turn around to help the puppy too?" The officer asked.
The woman shook her head, "I don't think so, they were going so fast. I didn't think they even saw him."
The officer asked her, "What are you going to do with the puppy?"
The woman laughed, "Well I was going to a meeting, but I figured I'd drop him off at the shelter since it was on the way, but now I just want to go home, but I can't take him home with me, no dogs allowed in my apartment."
"I'll take him there for you, they're right next door to our headquarters." the officer held out his hands. The puppy was terrified and struggled as the woman handed him over.
The woman thanked the officer and drove away.
In the patrol car the puppy fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. He awoke when the officer handed him to a shelter worker who promptly placed him in the quarantine pen.
Concrete floor and wire fencing around him for the moment was a welcome sight. At least it was something familiar.
Sighing he laid his head on his paws and fell asleep again.
Part 3 to be continued tomorrow 12/03/07
Day 1 in my mental exercise.
This is something from a story idea I've had bopping around in my head for a long time.
This is Remington. One of our dogs. He is a Redbone Coonhound and we got him as a foster through a Greyhound rescue group who saved him from a shelter closing in Tennessee. We knew the first time we saw him that he wasn't going anywhere. He was ours.
Remington was so malnourished that you could (if you could get him to hold still long enough) count each rib and vertebrae and I swear there were only a few inches at best between the bottom of his stomach and his back. This was why the Greyhound group originally thought he might be a Greyhound mix. A vet visit later confirmed our own suspicions and Internet searches that he was actually an extremely underweight Redbone.
It was obvious from both his physical state and his behaviour he'd been severely abused somewhere along the road in his life. Four years later, what a difference. He's actually borderline to being overweight but very healthy. He's still quite skittish but has warmed up to us considerably, even seeking out affection on his own instead of having to be coaxed into it. He's even turned so brazen he'll steal food right from under our noses. Loaves of bread, bags of burger buns, anything he can get his paws on will be consumed in seconds.
Many times I have speculated on what horrific things had happened to him to shape the dog he was when we welcomed him into our home. So I've decided to start this project of mine with a miniseries of sorts that will tell Remington's story from his point of view(as imagined by me). I will write a bit of the story each day for a few days, walking us along Remington's path from birth to where he is today.
Disclaimer notice here: It most likely doesn't apply to anyone in my neighborhood, but since it is also public. . .
If anyone who reads this raises hunting dogs I am not disparaging you in any way. This is "for" the ones who do it with no care or concern for the life and well being of their dogs and puppies. Only in the money and their own power over a helpless animal. It is all pure speculation on my part and I ask you to please not innundate me with notes about how you properly train and rear your dogs. I know the right ways. Obviously Remington is not a product of the right ways. And since people who get pleasure from terrorizing animals don't usually publicize their methods, I'm just making a fictional history for Remington.
Remington's Story
He could smell his mother nearby. Whimpering he raised his head and stretched toward her scent. He was so cold and so hungry. His mother had barely started cleaning him with her warm tongue when he was pulled from her by a powerful force and dropped from the black air onto the cold earth. As he recovered from the shock, with the dust from his impact clogging his nose and mouth he began searching with whimpers and scent for his mother and siblings. Instinct drove him to find her warmth and burrow into it as far as he could, he knew it would provide comfort, safety, and nourishment.
Agonizing cold and hunger seemed to define his world as he painstakingly crawled and pulled himself on his too weak legs toward her. Exhausted he neared his destination only to have a voice boom in his sensitive ears.
"Uh uh uh pup you gotta work for yer supper!" And he was brutally ripped from his mother and dropped into the dust again. "Iffen yer strong enough to make it to her from this far then maybe y'all can have a drink."
He lifted his head, trembling and scented the air. His mother was even farther away than before and he could smell even from this distance her distress and fear.
"Hold her willya?" The voice came again from the blackness. "T'aint gonna toughen these buggars up iffen she rescues them."
Another voice coming from the direction of his mother responded, "Yeah well she wants her babies real bad. She ain't gonna bite me is she?"
"Naw, she's the best bitch in mah kennels. She's been through this before, she don't like it none, but she likes ma boot a lot less don'tcha girl?"
The other voice asked, "So what's this supposed to do anyhow?"
"Tells me which pups to bother with and which ones to take the hammer to. If they can't make it to their ma then they're too weak for the training. Any good hunting dog worth their salt should be able to scent and track their own mam right from birth."
He stretched his body as far as he could yearning to reach his mother. While he was working he could sense his siblings at varying points each in the same desperate race. Some, his nose cringed at the smell, had stopped trying and were still and cold.
"Here now, the one over there is getting closer, move her over to the trough, lets see if it can track her by the water."
Later he and two of his remaining siblings were nestled with their mother on a hard cold stone floor.
Nearly too exhausted to nurse they overcame it by sheer instinct alone and feasted on their mother's bounty. Her milk and scents tasted of a mixture of their own terror and hers. Bitter and sour, yet still filled with life giving nourishment.
To be continued, 12/2/07
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