Project Hope "Dear Diary" Entry - May 22, 2007

We've had some special new arrivals at Project Hope recently. Little Andy has especially stolen my heart. Fellow rescuers Billy and Peggy (both live in Winona, Miss., 11 miles south of Project Hope) rescued Andy from beneath a country bridge. There are two more pups they're trying to catch. Andy suffers from malnutrition and mange, and is in pretty sad shape, but has already picked up in spirit and is very happy to be who he as at this place in time. The marked improvement in his well being in just a few days is remarkable.

He was initially terrified of us and timidly let us know he wasn't a biter, but he'd figure out what to do with his teeth if we scared him any worse. But I got him wagging his tail, and he's replaced his fierce little charge with a wag-waddle as he comes to the front of his cage for communion. What a sweetie.

Sadly, our two baby turkeys didn't make it through the night. I spotted them at the feed store. Baby turkeys are fragile, and many don't survive the "shipping" process. The very mention of the word in reference to animals in bulk transport says it all.

The young kitten we received the same day also perished in the night. Babies: what part of that term escapes people who breed or acquire totally dependent creatures and constructually, or physically abandon them?

Sonya and Heather have been taking Sandy home for special time. Sandy is a small dog, and so adorable that she should have gotten a home as soon as she was adoptable. We're cautious about her placement because she loves to bolt and run: not a candidate for a home with conditions that could jeopardize her safety. Anyway, she's getting lots of personal time to keep her spirits up. Her enclosure pals are great, but she's a real people dog.

Irene thinks the wave sprinkler Mike uses for landscaping is awesome. As long as it's on, it's got her attention. She may give chasing and biting the wave a break to see what the rest of us are doing, but she's back at it as soon as she's sure she's not missing something more entertaining.

Sonya, Heather, and I are enjoying the privilege of caring for our animals. There are always those who require extra care. As sad as it is that these animals have health and emotional issues, at least they get their caregivers' prime time and nurturing.

Aside from our recent arrivals, for the most part, we are on hold for welcoming any new animals. We're able to care for the animals we have and will manage our resources to their betterment. This means limiting acceptance of rescued animals to only those whose care we are certain we can bear.

Part of the reason for putting adoptions on hold is that, without transportation, we've not been able to make it to adoption days, meaning we are keeping some animals longer. However, our friends with Bell South Pioneers came to take photos of our new animals and are posting them on Petfinders. They also agreed to introduce us to PetSavers and keep us updated.

More good news: our cherished friends at St. Hubert's have agreed to take about 30 young and small dogs. Chele Whitehead, a dear friend and fellow rescuer, is sharing the expense of transport with us. We met Chele and her daughter Shelby during Katrina relief efforts. Hopefully we've been as much of a help to them as they have to us.

In terms of cruelty cases, there are (as always) many fires for our irons. I'll share three stories.

A Leflore County resident contacted Project Hope regarding the horrendous murder of his family's dog. While the family was away, two neighboring boys (one we know to be 12 years old) removed the dog from his yard, took her under the bridge near their homes, and brutally crushed her head.

A Long Beach, Miss. woman contacted us for help with the questionable death of her dog. Her brother was caring for her dog in Grenada when the dog got out and wandered across the road to a paper plant. One of the employees called a man to come get the dog (he did not call an Animal Care Officer). The guardian of the dog inquired at the plant and found out where the dog was supposed to be. When he went to retrieve the dog, the man who'd picked him up said the dog bolted from his truck when he got home with him, nearly breaking his hand. Well, the guardian didn't buy the story and came back later to look around. He found the dog's carcass in the field behind the house he allegedly "bolted" from.

Because there's no evidence to support any theory of criminal activity, the guardian has been advised to file a civil suit. As repulsive as it is that animals are seen as chattel in this case, a judgment in the plaintiff's favor will be much more substantial than the sentence for criminally injuring or killing a dog.

I recently experienced what was probably the worst of the worst I have ever seen. My friend Sally Link, one of the two women responsible for IDA's entry into Mississippi, called for help with a dog she had at our vet's. Sally lives on Highway 51, and found the dog lying in the highway unable to get up. The dog was in awful shape, so Sally stopped to ask her neighbor what he was going to do about her critical condition. All she got was a "wha-da-u expect me ta do" shoulder shrug with extended arms blow off.

I arrived at the vet clinic just as they were closing. They'd been busy and hadn't examined the dog yet. As the vets had left, and Doc was rushing out for a night class, I asked an assistant for help getting the dog from her cage for documentation. What I saw was the worst, the absolute worst! It was horrifying – the poor dog was a breathing corpse. She was being eaten alive from within and out. Uh!

The assistant and I discovered that the untreated mange and neglected matting from which the dog suffered had gone too far – way too far. Maggie, as I named her, was beyond any hope of recovery. When the assistant held a portion of the matting for me to photograph, we could see that the entire matted area from mid-back to tail was only attached because it was matted in mass. The matting pulled on the sparse hairs still clinging to the dog's raw skin.

As I cut the hair mass away, maggots began to slide to the floor. That's not uncommon with matting. What's almost unbelievable is that there weren't just some maggots, there were hundreds, and they were entering and exiting the holes they'd eaten into Maggie. She was so emaciated it was astounding that they found enough flesh to entertain their stay.

As I wiped the maggots off, Maggie closed her eyes in relief and turned her head to lick me, then the red-raw flesh she couldn't get to before. Poor precious. I took a syringe to evacuate the maggots from the holes. It was too unreal. It was like enduring the grossest horror film imaginable, only in real life. The maggots didn't just start flowing out of the holes on her back – they began pouring out of her rectum and vagina right along with the flush I put in the holes on her back. They'd invaded her. I flushed and cleaned and flushed and cleaned.

Another assistant joined us to keep the area sanitized. Maggie seemed to experience some relief, or at least appreciated the soothing of her flesh from the constant writhing of the maggots. We decided we would let her rest and there was no way we were going to get all the maggots out. I can honestly say I was desperate for her euthanasia. It was the only relief she was going to get.

Of course, I will seek the prosecution of Maggie's "guardian."