God Love them. Mojo didn’t look too bad (expression-wise, but he had almost no hair), but Murphy (who isn’t an Eskie, but totally unknown) had a look like that. Another rescuer was begging for someone to please pull him & we couldn’t resist. We drove up to Dallas & got him. He’s a character. He’s come back from 2 different adoptions for snapping at one & ‘’guarding’’ at another, but he’s always been Mr Congeniality with us, the vets, & everyone else he’s ever met*. lol We think he did it on purpose. (* well, except Mojo. I still have to keep them apart)
I know. :-( The worst part is not knowing exactly how old they are. Not that it would ‘’help’’ all that much. There is no ‘’easier’’ way to lose a pup. And we will never have them long enough, no matter what.
My first Ibizan, Minny, was in the shelter for 3 weeks, which is 2 weeks ‘past the day’...
A worker there kept talking them out of killing her because she had a Saluki and knew Minny was ‘some kind of sight hound’, even though they called her a “whippet”.
I found her 10 minutes before they closed, on the last day of her life, as the supervisor simply couldn’t hold her, anymore.
For all that time, Minny hung out with the worker who had the Saluki but ‘went invisible’ every time anyone went by her kennel.
She’d ball up on her filthy blanket and present her back to everyone, not responding, at all.
I walked in, knelt down, poked my fingers through the chain link, said “hey, girl” and Minny got up off her cold blanket, walked over and *bit* me.
[What TOOK you SO long to get here, mom?] LOL
The two ladies started crying.
I was her last chance.
So I looked up at them and said “Get my dog outta this damn cage.”
They flipped out.
Much rejoicing and tears of joy.
Minny swaggered out to the counter and stood up, beside me as I signed her adoption papers and then went out the door, *and walked straight to my car*.
It was as if she had been waiting for *me*, all those weeks and intentionally made herself invisible to anyone else.
Later, I found out she had once belonged to my mother’s friend, who skipped town with her boy-toy and all her poor husband’s money, leaving Minny [then Marnie] loose in the yard.
Marnie/Minny had run away but stayed in the general area for weeks before the SPCA captured her.
Meanwhile, the husband had found her collar and tags, *still buckled*, along RT 40 and assumed she was dead.
*I* think she knew that was the way she had to take, to “find” me.
I was meant to have that dog.
Too many coincidences.
She was also the dog who stopped my ex from killing me, the last night he was here.
I had saved her and so she saved me.
Best dog, ever.
And nope, I do not care who thinks I’m crazy.
:D