Diane's love of 15 years died of cancer and she was crushed. Her little shiatsu had been her whole life. Vowing never to have her heart broken again, she said she did not want another dog.
Until she decided she did.
The shelter was absolutely full. She wanted a small dog as she was disabled and could not do long walks or have a dog needing a lot of activity. There were so many. I took one row and she took another, then we'd meet at the end to compare notes. She was not there 10 minutes later and I looked down her row. She had opened a kennel and was sitting with him.
He was scared. Shaking and miserable. Before I could get there, a shelter worker was at the kennel talking to her. Malachi had been returned to the shelter three times and was awaiting placement at a no-kill shelter. She was not encouraging about adapting Malachi out. He was just so damaged. I'm going to break your heart, so if so sensitive, you may want to stop reading here.
Malachi was rescued when a mentally unstable man was institutionalized after neighbors complained he had been burying dogs in his backyard for years. The police found 11 dogs, all lab/pit mixes, in various stages of malnutrition. Some had scars from recent fighting. One had a freshly blinded eye. The humane society was called in, and the dogs were taken to the shelter for immediate medical evaluation. Three were euthanized due to advanced health issues.
One of the humane society rescue volunteers decided to walk through the house to make one last check for any dogs they may have missed. It was then she heard him.
Malachi was huddled under a bed, fur matted so badly he couldn't see. She crawled under the bed and when she gripped him, he screamed in fear. She quickly gathered him in her arms and held him close. Malachi had lived his entire 5-year life under that bed. The other dogs didn't tolerate him and he was so starved, every bone in his body showed through, even through the years of matted fur. He would sneak out from under the bed at night and eat what the other dogs may have left. If anything.
Diane listened to the story as tears streaked down her face. She looked at me and said. "We're taking him home".
The attendant took him up front and I helped Diane back into her wheelchair and we followed the worker to the front. They didn't even charge us an adoption fee, sure that we would return him just as others had.
It was a long, long road for Malachi. He found places to hide in our house and at first, I began to understand why others returned him to the shelter, but Diane refused...
"No." she said. "We are going to heal him".
And we did.
At first, we put his food at the foot of the bed he hid under. For two weeks we cleaned up after him and reassured him with soft, soothing voices. About the time we decided we were going to bring him out and close that bedroom door, we caught him peeking out at us. Diane coaxed him to come closer, but he looked at me with apprehension. It was a man that had kicked and abused him so terribly, he was deathly afraid of men.
Diane wheeled herself over to him and he cowered as she bent to pick him up. She held him close, singing to him and reassuring him that he was safe.
Malachi licked her hand. Malachi was home.
A dog wants to love. They are born with an innate loving nature and Malachi just took a while to find his. Unfortunately, I lost Diane a year ago, so it's just me and Malachi now. He is my constant companion. We drive two hours each way on the weekends to spend time with my new partner and will be moving there at the end of September. He absolutely loves Lisa and she loves him. Idiosyncrasies and all.
SAN MARCOS, TX
