My Orphan of the Storm

I watch her walk across the room, every limb, stiff with pain, shaking, splaying in different directions like Bambi on the ice. Every step could end with her slamming to the floor.

For the second day in a row, I have found her right by the front door when I came home. I found it kind of puzzling because she hardly moves from her bed in Vivian’s room, except to pee and poop. She is still my Queen my strong warrior Queen.

Most of her life she has lived in some sort of pain, physical and psychological.

The first year of her life she lived chained outside. Bred as soon as she was able. The puppies sold for cash or whatever. They may have tried fighting her or at least sparing her with other dogs. for she had wounds from dog bites and she feared other dogs and reacted with aggression. She was scarred in more ways than one. The multiple adults and children in the household probably didn’t even pay any attention to her, except to tease and frustrate her. Or to beat her. They starved to a thin shell of a dog.

When they were done with her they tied her chain to a street sign and left her there. On December 12, 1995 during the largest storms to hit Portland since the Columbus Day storm of 1962.

That day I opted for leaving early to get home before the worst was predicted to arrive. The wind was already intense. Twister weather. I saw her from car frantically, pacing around the pole. I was stunned by how thin she was. I had never seen a dog that thin except in PETA brochures.

I untangled her chain and she made one threatening lunge at me but was freaking out. Still she trusted me and let me lead her to my car.. When we got home, I put my dogs Daphne and Spot outside, then I took her down to the basement with some blankets, food and water.

Over the next few days, I would go down and check on her. I knew she was afraid and lonely but at least she was warm and getting fed. She’d stay on her blanket, curled in a ball and watch me out of the corners of her eyes. I talked softly to her but kept my distance.

As the days went by it remained the same. I asked an acquaintance to come over and give me her opinion about whether or not Stormy was adoptable. When we came down to see her, Stormy stood up and when she saw my friend, she lowered her head an growled. She did not like what was happening. I didn’t blame her. It was intimidating. My friend was a very manly female and I wonder if it was the tone of her voice that Stormy did not like. For it was obvious later on that she didn’t like strangers but especially, men.

My friend immediately told me that she though the dog was to far gone. That she could never be adopted out. It would be too dangerous.

I wasn’t sure I was up to the challenge of handling a dog like this. Especially since I had two other young dogs. And also because I wasn’t sure . how she was going to be around them. I hadn’t been ready to introduce them. I wanted Stormy to get more acclimated. As much as it pained me, I considered taking her to the shelter because, I wasn’t sure I could do it.

I tormented all night and in the morning when I went down to check on her, I apologized to her for what I might have to do. Maybe today. Christmas was coming. I was actually going to Seattle. What would I do with you while I was gone. Who could take care of you. While I was checking on her food and water, she actually walked around the room watching me. And as I was standing my the stairs ready to go upstairs, she came over and licked my hand.

TO BE CONTINUED

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