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Rescue File 2006

Chester

“I hope you don’t think I’m a bad person because I can’t keep him.” Mrs. B. smiled a nervous “welcome” as she stood in the doorway of her tiny Queens walkup. She was 81, frail, and we’d come to her home because a month earlier Mrs. B.’s beloved Poodle, Lucy, had died. The two had been together for 16 years. Mrs. B. missed Lucy desperately. A wellmeaning relative had sent a present, an eight-week-old Corgi, to fill the emptiness.

Inside the apartment was a sea of toys, ripped paper and spilled puppy food. The Corgi had taken over. “No Chester! Sit down!” Mrs. B. said helplessly when he grabbed a dishtowel but the puppy took no notice, just tore around the room then doubled back to nip sharply at her heels. “He keeps trying to make me walk into the bedroom,” the old lady quavered. “I don’t know why.” We explained that Corgis were bred to herd cattle. In their absence anyone else - cats, pigeons, senior citizens - will do. Chester was only doing his job. When we left Mrs. B. kissed the puppy’s black nose. “Take good care of him,” she whispered. We promised we would and promised, too, to find another dog, a gentle older animal to be with her.

Chester lives in the country now, part of a rough-and-tumble animal-filled family that includes two other Corgis named Jake and Molly. He’s happy and busy. And in the city we’re looking for just the right dog, sweetnatured like Lucy, as a companion for Mrs. B.

At the Humane Society of New York animals depend on us to find them homes where they will be safe and cared for. If we don’t take time to match the right dog or cat with the right family it is the animal who may end up neglected or homeless.

Here are the stories of a few we have helped...

At the Society, an old cat makes a new start.

The crate lying by the thruway was partly hidden by weeds and rolled onto its side as though it had been there for a long time. But on a cold December night an hour outside Manhattan something made one alert driver stop anyway. The next morning, shaken, the man called the Humane Society of New York to say he’d found a cat starving in the abandoned crate.

The cat was an older male, about ten. He was a gray tiger, tall and painfully gaunt with no tags, no ID of any kind except a ring of flattened fur around his neck that showed where a collar had once been. A sodden newspaper, the Times Union from Albany, lined the crate. Someone had wanted to be sure that this old animal would never find his way home.

We named the cat Filibuster, Buster for short. In our hospital Buster spent weeks recovering from malnutrition and a severe respiratory infection. When he was healthy, neutered and microchipped our adoption center gave him the time he needed to trust again. Then we sent him home with a lovely woman who reports that these days Filibuster, gray-furred and dignified, spends his afternoons curled in her lap while she works, purring for hours on end.

Shecky, back on his feet.

One day, without any warning Shecky, age two, started to die. He’d always been strong and cheerfully bossy, convinced he was in charge of all the comings and goings in his home. So when
the doorbell rang and the terrier didn’t burst into action his owner was surprised. A few minutes later surprise turned to fear when the man found Shecky disoriented, swaying, gamely trying to reach the door on legs turned suddenly to rubber.

For three days while Alan G. looked for help his dog got sicker. When a friend finally told Alan to call the Humane Society of New York it was almost too late. In one of our hospital’s exam rooms the terrier lifted his head slowly like a very old dog. His eyes were dull, little legs useless. “I can’t stand to see him like this,” Alan said sadly. “And I was laid off months ago, I can’t afford a big bill. Do you
think I should put him to sleep?”

That afternoon our doctor took an x-ray and found Shecky had swallowed a penny which was lodged in the intestine. Copper poisoning was killing the terrier. Emergency surgery was his only chance. The operation was risky because he was so weak but expert care and a tough terrier will to live beat the odds. Four days later Shecky went home.

Today Shecky is bossy as ever. “I’m the one that’s changed,” Alan said with a smile when the two came in a week later for suture removal. “I’m a lot neater now; I pick up anything small enough for him to swallow. You saved Shecky’s life,” Alan said. “We both needed to thank you for that.”

Feeling much better, thank you!
Simka in the adoption center.

Simka is an almost-perfect cat, a melt-in-your-arms ball of fur with a tranquil nature and a ready purr. A purebred Ragdoll, she has all the dusky, blue-eyed beauty of her breed. One morning her owner brought her to the Humane Society of New York wanting to put her to sleep. When we asked why he said because the cat was overweight. In a disposable world his imperfect cat had become another disposable.

Like humans, animals confronted with boredom or stress may turn to food for comfort. Simka ate when the isolation of her owner’s 14-hour workday made her anxious. Ragdolls are big cats but when Simka’s weight climbed past 20 pounds she began to have trouble grooming. At night when
she went to her owner for affection the man pushed her away saying she smelled. By the time she came to the Society Simka weighed just under 25 pounds. Each step that she took was an effort.

In our hospital Simka was sedated while clumps of soiled mats were shaved and her inflamed skin was medicated. Our doctors prescribed a nutritious high fiber low calorie diet. Our kennel staff brushed her, petted her, told her what a pretty girl she was. Soon the lonely cat responded. She started walking more, batting at toys, greeting visitors to the adoption center. Two months passed. Simka was halfway to her target weight of 14 pounds when she butted her round head against a pair of ankles one day; they belonged to a woman who turned out to be the Ragdoll’s perfect match. The woman beamed on the day she adopted Simka. “Imagine,” she said, “Just some extra brushing and watching her diet and I get to take this wonderful cat home.”

After surviving Hurricane Katrina and deadly
heartworm, Paisley looks forward to better days.

She came to us six months after Katrina, a brown and white dog orphaned by the hurricane whose past, like countless others, had been washed away forever. We don’t know what her name was or who might have loved her or the hardships she endured. She arrived at the Society with three puppies and though she was ill and exhausted she’d been a devoted mother doing the best she could in a world turned upside-down. We called her Paisley. In late February she was one of thirteen dogs and cats that we brought up from New Orleans. They were our second group of hurricane rescues and after months of fending for themselves the animals were sick, struggling with malnutrition, infections, mange and parasites. In Katrina’s wake heartworm disease is epidemic and five of our new dogs tested positive. Paisley was among them, her infestation severe. Without treatment she didn’t have long to live.

Treating advanced heartworm is an ordeal dogs weakened by the parasite may not survive. In intensive care Paisley was closely watched by our medical staff and monitored with x-rays and EKGs. There were days we thought we’d lose her, when violent coughing left strength enough only for a brief flap of her tail. Stoic even on her worst days, Paisley refused to soil her kennel so to ease strain on her heart we’d carry her outside. When she didn’t want to eat we fed her by hand. The day she greeted us, tail lashing, hungry, eager for a walk was a happy one for all our staff. The crisis was past. One more time, Paisley was a survivor.

No one ever came looking for the mother dog in the holding center outside New Orleans where our staff member found her. No one called to say they recognized her during the weeks her picture appeared on Petfinder. During her time at the Society Paisley has been a kind and courageous patient and a gentle friend. Now, restored to health she’s ready to bring joy to somebody’s life for years to come.

Each day we at the Humane Society of New York are faced with animals who need our help to go on and, in many cases, to survive. Please give, as each donation makes a new beginning possible.

Sincerely,

Virginia Chipurnoi

President

Photos by Advisory Board Member, Tammey Stubbs © 2006