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Rescue File 2007
Fifty years ago Joseph P. and his young wife settled in Brooklyn. Joseph and Anna bought a house, filled it with children, laughter, dogs underfoot. The birthday parties and graduations flew by too fast and, one by one, the children left to start lives of their own. Then a short illness and Joseph’s wife was gone. But the elderly man wasn’t alone. Chuffy was there. Chuffy is a scruffy terrier mix who’d turned up, hungry, one frosty night, nosing through the trash. At Anna’s insistence she never left. She’d become Joseph’s shadow and protector, his wiry-haired best friend and fellow watcher of the late late movie. Then came the day when Chuffy, seven years old, collapsed without warning. Joseph rushed to their regular vet but he had only a small retirement income and the doctor said that he needed to run a lot of tests. The medical workup would be costly. Without payment in full his only other option would be to put Chuffy to sleep. When the old man pleaded the vet suggested calling the Humane Society of New York. That afternoon the Society’s doctors took x-rays, ran blood and urine tests and diagnosed an acute infection that had shut down Chuffy’s kidneys. Intensive care in our hospital saved the terrier’s life. Six days later Chuffy bounded into Joseph’s arms when it was time to go home. Each year we care for 32,000 animals throughout New York City’s five boroughs in our full-service hospital and Vladimir Horowitz & Wanda Toscanini Horowitz Adoption Center. Many depend on the Humane Society of New York for the care they need to survive. Here are the stories of a few more we have helped... For months, whenever the woman came to Walter’s house he’d meet her, purring, at the door and walk her inside. Then she moved in and told the man Walter had lived with for five years that she was allergic to cats. The big, placid tabby, long accustomed to quiet days following a patch of sun across a sill, then a chair, then a couch was sent to live with relatives. He was frightened by his new family’s toddler who grabbed him when he slept and by the shouts and pounding feet of their older children. Walter stopped eating, hid under a bed. The family complained. By the time we got a call and said yes, we would take Walter he hadn’t eaten for nearly a week. His skin and the whites of his eyes were an ominous yellow. Our doctors diagnosed hepatic lipadosis, failure of the liver that often sets in when a cat goes too long without food. Without immediate treatment Walter would die. In our hospital he was put on a jugular IV, continuously hydrated and medicated but his condition remained critical. Days passed. Our doctors persisted. Finally, little by little the tabby started to improve. In time he was adopted. Today visitors to Walter’s new home are greeted by a healthy, bright-eyed cat with an inquisitive face and a ready purr. Walter bravely put betrayal behind him, to become part of a family that treasures him. He will be with them for years to come − because when he needed us most, the Humane Society of New York was here.
It was late winter, icy winds whipping the city, when Woofie’s family moved away and left him behind. He was only halfway grown then, all elbows and oversized paws. But he knew where he belonged and so he waited, outside the locked doors of his home, for his family to come back. Woofie slept under cars and ate food that neighbors left. He ran from stones that children sometimes threw. He was taller, thinner, not a puppy anymore when spring finally arrived. By then the young Shepherd Mix was weak from the cold and from eating only scraps. He limped on one forepaw. He was crossing the street one morning, heading back to his old stoop in the shadows of Yankee Stadium, when a car rounded the corner, moving fast. A neighbor, walking her own dog, saw Woofie escape by inches. That same day the woman called the Humane Society of New York. “A few of us here tried to look out for the dog,” the woman said. “But no one can keep him, or afford to take care of him the right way. If he stays here, on the street, something bad will happen to Woofie.” We told the kind woman to bring the suffering dog to us. In the Society’s hospital we treated Woofie for malnutrition, removed a sliver of glass from his paw and began antibiotics to treat the infected foot. We gave him medication for parasites and vitamins to help him gain strength. When he was ready he was neutered. As his body and spirit healed we spent time getting acquainted. The Woofie we got to know is an amazing and optimistic dog: smart, funny, forgiving of hurts done to him, eager to be friends. A bit of a gourmet, he is fond of carrot sticks and cheese, passionate about peanut butter. He plays nicely with cats and loves tennis balls but finds Frisbees a bore. It was a Monday, soon after Woofie had been moved from the hospital to our adoption center, when a man came to the Society looking for a big, gentle dog. A publishing executive, he’d come straight from his office and was wearing an expensive suit but when the man saw Woofie and heard his story he waved away the chair we offered and sat on the floor instead, tossing a ball. He visited three more times that week. On Friday the man said, “OK, Woof, I’ll be here tomorrow to take you home,” and Woofie, ever the optimist, wagged back, as if he understood.
Cecil is a sweet 14 year old, a round-headed, big-boned mama’s boy of a cat. He came to the Society one fall day with a woman who peeled him from her arms and set him firmly on the reception counter. “I’ve had Cecil since he was this big,” the woman said. She held up two fingers, a kitten-sized gap. “He’s a good cat. But he gets sick all the time, bladder infections, he’s got one now. I just can’t take care of him anymore.” She cut our offers of help short, pushed away Cecil, who was trying to climb back into her arms, and left. At the Society we see many people who feel overwhelmed by their animals’ needs. That’s why our adoption staff isn’t just friendly and knowledgeable; they’re also thorough, inquisitive, tough when they need to be. It’s our job to make sure adopters fully understand the responsibility they’re taking on. But we couldn’t make Cecil understand. The old cat was devastated by the loss of the only home he’d known. In our hospital we ran cultures, found an aggressive bacterium called pseudomonas causing the recurring infections and treated the problem, once and for all. At the same time we coaxed, crooned, slowly earned Cecil’s trust. In time we found him a new home with a man who was happy to adopt a senior cat. Now, “Cecil follows me everywhere,” the man reports. “That’s just fine. Whatever time he has left, I want to be sure he spends it with me.”
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 © 2007 |
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Home :: Our Mission :: Services :: Adoptions :: Donations :: Humane Issues :: Contact © 2001-2008, The Humane Society of New York. PRIVACY POLICY
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