She came to us accidentally, like when you meet your soul mate on a flight or a stranger asks to share your table in a crowded coffee shop, and that stranger becomes your new best friend—a friend who carries your pains and joys as heartily as their own.

We had relocated to the South from California to that dream retirement home on a lake and a quiet rural life. Shortly after our relocation, we lost our greyhound, who had lived her life loved. Throughout our marriage, we have had three greyhounds, assorted terriers, a poodle, a corgi mix, and a smattering of cats who decided to live with us.

Retiring early meant a semi-retirement. We began remodeling neglected homes. Those homes sold “As Is,” meaning most necessities were in disrepair. The work was challenging physically, but seeing the results became something to be proud of.

Being from California, we weren’t prepared for the neglect pets face in the South. We discovered that we had gone from one of the best states for pet care to nearly the worst. Chained dogs are common.

On our tenth remodel, we drove past a white dog daily with a chain around her neck fastened to a tree. The chain was about ten feet long, so she continually stepped in her feces. She had been provided a blue plastic barrel for protection from the elements. As we passed, I began to slow down and take a closer look. She was far too thin, with minimal fur, and often wrapped herself around the tree bound to the point that she couldn’t reach the barrel or lie down.

As we dreamed of using our profits for future travel, I worried about this dog. She was not pretty, with so little fur that one could see through to the skin. She was all ears. We began to call her Yoda. I noticed that her only water source was the puddles after a rain. We started bringing water in any container we could find. Who leaves a dog without water?

Not daring to share my concern with the Mr., I silently thought about this sweet-looking dog. Oh, but that travel. Caring for a dog when you wish to hike across Spain for a month is not a good plan. Seeing this poor creature and recognizing a dog’s devotion to their human family distressed me.

Having raised three children and a multitude of pets. We were after one thing―freedom, untethered by responsibility. This homely example of what one would describe as a junkyard dog was not in our plans. But being people who cannot tolerate neglect, we decided to steal her away. As our work on the remodel was ending, we began feeding her. After days of providing food, she continued to look at us with suspicion as we approached, torn between starvation and fear.

I watched the property where she was chained and noticed that a woman lived with several children. I only saw the woman when she stood on the porch smoking. We planned our caper for a day when her car was not in the driveway. We brought a collar, a leash, and some boiled chicken. Not being experienced at theft, we tried to slip the chain off and the collar on, and at that moment, fearful of her snarls, she slipped from the chain and ran off with fear in her eyes. Running around the property chasing this dog, we looked like Laurel and Hardy fools. Oh my God, now we’ve done it. What if she runs to the highway and is hit by a car? I worried, realizing our attempted capture had failed.

First car ride.

The husband and I returned the next day to find her again chained to her tree. This time, we offered food first, hoping to purge her fears and gain her trust. After her meal, we approached. She growled, but this time, we brought bolt cutters, and rather than using the collar and leash, we cut the chain using our lure of chicken; she went straight to our car, and with that, she became ours, packed into the car with our final cleaning equipment, she was nervous, but the fear in her eyes had changed to curiosity.

We went directly to the veterinarian’s office, which we had notified the day before of our possible visit. We entered chain and all, praying that they would not make us return her to where she would surely die far too young.

First visit to a veterinarian’s office

The veterinarian said nothing about how we had come to be responsible for this dog. I was hoping for no heartworm but expecting health issues of some kind. Shockingly, besides being severely underweight and showing signs of recently having had puppies, she was in good shape. Her estimated age was one.

We slipped on her new leash and collar and took her home with premium dog food, a toy, and a bath. She behaved perfectly in the tub, and her growls vanished. We rubbed her with towels, hugged her, and loved on her. The husband got down on the floor with her, and to our shock, she rolled around and cried with relief. She knew that her life would be better.

Day one, hour one in her new home

She was twenty-five pounds at the doctor’s and is now fifty. We feared she would have behavior issues and took her to obedience training. We failed. She did not. We have since moved to the Rockies of Colorado, where she gets a walk nearly every day unless the temperature drops below twenty. Even with the lows, she has a sweater, a jacket, a bed, and more toys than any dog could wish for. Her fur has returned, she has grown into those ears, and her tail now wags more than not.

In[PT1]  Colorado, it is a law that each home has a dog and a Subaru. These dogs are cared for, the Subarus―not so much. We have not seen a single chained dog. We take her for long hikes in the summer while she shows nothing but grace.

Abbey, at her daily job: Squirrel patrol

After retirement, the husband had been suffering from depression for the first time in his life. Abbey (her new name) cured this. As her eyes became clear and filled with joy, so did his. Shortly after we took her home, I pushed my nose deeply into her fur, taking in the scent of love, earth, and life. Dogs bind us to the earth like no other. It is not an expensive perfume but is priceless as it is the smell of a best friend. They are like the Benedictine order in the Catholic church, called to share their gifts. She is now seven years old and the best companion we could have ever asked for. She is devoted, gentle with the grandchildren, and no longer runs full speed to her food, knowing she will be fed.

The author with Abbey dog.

Are we indeed the owners of these remarkable creatures? Given their unconditional love, if you are patient and willing to open your heart, you will find that many dogs cleverly own their caregivers.

---

 [PT1]