Leo forever

Dogs like Leo often go unnoticed. They might start their life in danger, but they spend them forever grateful, aware and dedicated to their family. That was Leo.

I think it was 2001 when I got a call from a woman who rescues a lot of dogs. I was just starting to think about volunteering with the animal shelter in Austin, I'd left my name somewhere, that's how it starts. I didn't know what I was getting in to when I said, "Sure, let me grab my coat and shoes on and I'll meet you there." Someone had found a litter of puppies under their shed, put them in a cardboard box and left them in a field across the street from their house. The pups didn't have their eyes open, there were 8 of them, the mother dog was nowhere to be found and we were due for a rare November ice storm that night.

We each picked out 4 pups, completely randomly. Lucky me, Leo ended up in my basket, along with three other pups, Lulu, Clarence, and Dobbie. I picked up syringes and puppy formula on the way home and set them up in the spare bedroom.
That first night I just tried to keep their tummy's full. All four would wake starving, and one by one, I'd squirt formula in them, until they seemed content. (Here's Leo at 5 weeks.) Somehow we made it through that first night.
The next day we met back at the original location with two puppies and a trap. Our plan was to use the puppies to lure the Mom into the trap and take them all somewhere together until we could figure something else out. The field backed up to a greenbelt and we could see the Mother dog lurking in the distance. We hid, moved further away, but she stayed away. We waited until it was dark again and getting colder, then picked up the pups and the trap and called it a day.

So it began. Somehow Leo and his litter mates, Lulu, Clarence, Dobbie, Twyla Jean, Bear, Harry and Kodiak, all survived puppy hood. For me, it meant, messy, constant care. Everyone thought I was nuts, but like most times when people think I'm nuts, I disagreed. Leaving them in that field wasn't an option, the vet confirmed that, and I wasn't going to take them to the shelter or make them a problem for someone else. I knew it was something I was supposed to do, just that one time, so I did it.

The pups soon graduated from syringes and puppy formula to real baby bottles, and goat milk. A kindergarten class who heard about them made the puppies a project and donated bottles, blankets and cans of dog food. Still, the care of 4 puppies was at times overwhelming. I was recovering from my third surgery and the work gave me something meaningful to do, it was nice to give my attention to something besides my own injury. It was also good physical therapy. As I filled bottles and held puppies and chased them down and cleaned up after them, my arm got a steady gentle workout. So did my heart. I couldn't get too down and sad about myself when I had 4 waddling pups in the house, all learning to bark and wag at the same time, it was fun and it was crazy. All that puppy breath was good therapy.

One by one they found homes, but it was slow going. They weren't pretty. They were all different.

Lulu, who looked like a boston terrier/boxer mix was the cutest. She was adopted twice and returned each time. The third time was the charm and she now lives down the street.



Dobbie found a home with a college professor. He turned out to be a sort of miniature German Shepard looking dog. Very cute, smart and playful.




Clarence found a home, but quickly came back with a severe case of demodectic mange. It's brought on by stress and a compromised immune system, and is common in orphaned pups. We treated him and he seemed to get better until he went out for the day with another possible adopter only to come home with a severe outbreak. He never recovered and had to be put to sleep. This broke my heart, of course.

But, I had Leo and Leo was a lot of dog. Leo was smart and in tune. He knew people and he knew his job. He was calm, and loved to chase sticks and balls, but when you needed him, when you were having a bad day, or for me, when I was sick of being injured and feeling like an invalid, he'd be there by my side. He understood. Again, people may think I'm nuts, and I don't really don't care. Remember when you were a kid, when it was so easy to believe that your dog (or cat) completely understood you, when they had an unexplainable ability to sympathize and listen? Leo had that for me, cynical injured adult that I was.

I was pretty used to the idea of him being my dog, when I got a call from one of my favorite people in the world, my friend Meg in Seattle. Meg had just lost her dog of many years to cancer. She saw Leo's picture and she said it was crazy, but she knew he was supposed to be her dog. I wouldn't have sent Leo off to anyone else in the world, but this was Meg. I had three dogs at the time, Keni, Cowgirl and Molly, who had just showed up and made herself at home. Still, it was so hard to let him go.

I got a crate and Meg got Leo a ticket on Continental airlines. I took him to the cargo area, did all the paperwork and we waited for the plane. Leo seemed ready to go, he got right in his crate when I asked him to. When thye picked up his crate with a frontloader, he didn't make a peep. He trusted me. He had a layover in Minnesota of all places, so I called and somehow they let me talk to the guy in charge of animals who broke the rules and let Leo out of his crate and remarked on how scary he looked but what a "fine dog" he was.



Meg picked Leo up in Seattle with her then boyfriend and her daughter.
She said Leo looked up at her and wagged. Believe it or not, it happened that way. Here he is in Meg's little car riding home from the airport.
Maybe he isn't "pretty" but who needs pretty when you have so much presence?



Leo was the main dog at the Broadway Performance Hall, running the place, with Meg's help. He was there for Maddie's high school graduation and to check out Meg's new boyfriend, Dan, and later serve as "best dog" at their wedding with his bright blue bow tie.




When Meg and Dan bought a cabin and some land north of Seattle, they took Leo with them and they all had a wonderful time, as you can see:








I saw him for the first time since I put him on the plane when I went to Seattle for the screening. He remembered me. He came up to me and licked my face as if to say, "Hi, good to see you and I'm staying with Meg." It was only a couple of weeks later that Meg told me he was ill. He had developed an inability to digest proteins. They tried everything, even feeding him dog food with rabbit meat, but there was nothing to be done. Leo went from 80 lbs to 60 and kept getting sicker and finally last Tuesday night, they helped him pass on.

Meg called him her familiar, he was always by her side, in tune with her, just there, her friend and companion. To those of you who are rolling your eyes right now, maybe you'll know what I'm talking about some day. Maybe you'll meet a Leo of your own. He''ll show up when you think you have no time or room for him, he'll require you to open up a bit and do some work, and then one day, he will be right by your side before you knew you needed him.

I guess I needed a lot of words to let Leo go and mourn and celebrate him. I may have tended to him when he needed me, but he was there for me. He was just a dog from the woods, just a funny looking, sometime scary looking, crazy about his sticks, rabbit chasing, creek swimming, soulful dog with a whole lot of friends..