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Dear
Friend and Animal Lover: Virginia Chipurnoi President
Daisy That bitter night, Christmas Eve, the neighbor brought Daisy to the Society. It was late, we were ready to close, but we listened to her story. “Mrs. G. is an elderly widow,” the woman told us. “She loves this dog. But she can’t be responsible for a dog – or herself – anymore. She gets confused, forgets things. Tonight she didn’t recognize Daisy. She was going to leave her outside.” The woman wiped her eyes. “Mrs. G.’s family is moving her soon. She can’t live on her own. But they don’t want Daisy and I can’t take her. Please, can you help?” We did help. In our hospital, we made room for this gentle, neglected dog, and began rehabilitative care. When the Pekinese had gained weight and recovered from a skin infection we settled her in our adoption center. Then one day a woman came, explaining that her 14-year-old poodle’s lifetime companion had died. “Howie is lost without his friend,” she told us. We showed her Daisy, then the two dogs were introduced. Today it’s as though Daisy “has been with us always,” says her new owner. “These little old dogs are happy.”
Hallie What the kind man brought us that fall morning was a Persian cat, so starved, filthy and matted she was nearly unrecognizable. She had four one-day-old kittens, cords still attached. She was a victim of a common misconception: that breeding and selling purebred animals is an easy way to make money. When reality sets in, animals are often neglected or cruelly abandoned. This Persian nearly paid for someone’s greed with her life. In
the Society’s hospital we began supporting the mother and her
newborns with expert medical care. Sadly, one did not survive its
harsh day outdoors. But three kittens lived and during her time
with them Hallie, as we named her, was a devoted parent. She washed
them constantly, watched over them, purred as they batted her ears
and ambushed her tail. When they were big enough they left us, one
by one, for new homes. The mother was adopted last. It took a long
time to restore her worn little body to good health. But patience
paid off and when she was spayed and strong and had blossomed into
the lovely animal she was meant to be we said “goodbye”
to our brave Hallie, and sent her on her way.
Finchley “It” turned out to be a small gray striped kitten with a runny nose. He was six weeks old, he’d been bought in a pet shop and his day as an unwanted Valentine was the first time he’d been away from his littermates. On our exam table he miaowed like a little lost bird. We named him Finchley. Finchley was adopted one morning in spring, five weeks after he came to the Society. Before he left we treated his respiratory infection and gave him the basic medical care that all kittens should have. We gave him the affection he’d never known and sent him home with someone who tells us that Finchley — feisty, funny and incurably nosey — is exactly the sort of cat that they wanted.
J.R. Our doctors diagnosed a broken jaw. X-rays taken in our clinic showed J.R. had a serious fracture. Not from an accident or being hit, but from poor diet that weakened his bones, combined with advanced periodontal disease. The Chihuahua needed surgery, and extensive rehabilitative care. “For a dog?” his owners said, and signed him over to us. To make J.R. well we had to drain abscesses in his jaw, remove decayed teeth and implant an oral splint that he’ll wear for the rest of his life. We gave him antibiotics and daily vitamins. Through his ordeal the little dog’s kindly spirit never wavered. It was good to see him feeling better. It was good to watch him, tail lashing, enjoy his food again. In time J.R. went to a wonderful home with someone who takes his special needs in stride. “Of course it’s not a problem,” said his new person, holding him close. “I’ll take care of him. He’s my family.”
Chester Chester is a well-loved dog. But his owner was laid off from his job recently. Money is tight. The family’s regular vet couldn’t underwrite medical care. By the time they were referred to the Society, Chester was critical. X-rays in our clinic showed a tennis ball that he’d swallowed, lodged in the intestine. Emergency surgery and intensive follow up care saved the big dog’s life. Today Chester is once more his family’s youngest “child”, the kids’ tireless fetcher of sticks, keeper of secrets, uncomplaining wearer of hats and sweatshirts with rolled up sleeves. He’s well and strong and playful, home where he belongs — because the Humane Society of New York was here.
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On a cold evening late in December Mrs. G. picked up Daisy for the
last time and started down the stairs of their Bronx walkup. The
little dog was quiet in her arms. Halfway down she met a neighbor.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. G.” the younger woman said. “Where
are you going with Daisy?”
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