Some of you may remember a post I made a few years ago about Walela, the beagle puppy that someone dumped – or had become lost – in the woods, about two miles from our house in the Daniel Boone National Forest. There were originally three pups, not much more than skeletons when I first saw them. They wouldn’t come close, hungry as they were, but devoured the food I left them the minute I stepped away. In a short time, two pups disappeared and the rumors were that someone shot them. I never saw the third pup for days, and assumed the worst.
Then one day, there she was in the road. She apparently had taken up residence in the woods on this sharp bend of the road. I started leaving food in the ditch, as did a few other neighbors. She would run after the car, or come running from the woods to wait for her food, but would run away as soon as we attempted to approach her. I called a beagle breeder for advice. He suggested hot dogs, cheapest ones I could find, served raw. He said no beagle can refuse a hot dog (and he was right). I spent the next three months visiting her every day, tossing hot dogs for her, talking to her, and just sitting quietly. It was my hope that I’d earn her trust and she’d come with me.
I called her Walela (which means hummingbird), because she was so delicate and frail, yet could dart in for a chunk of hot dog tossed in the road and back out just as quickly – and we called her place in the road Walela Bend. To make a very long story short, after three months of this, I borrowed a huge wire dog crate, and set it at the roadside. I fed her a few hot dogs but put the rest in the crate, door open wide, and gave her plenty of room. Finally, about two hours later, Walela ventured into the crate to snatch a hot dog. I let her go in and out a few times, slowly working my way back to the crate. And yes, that moment came when she went in and I was able to shut the door. After three solid months of trying, I had her. She’s been with us ever since, and is a loving, contented couch potato.
That curve in the road is still known as Walela Bend to us and our neighbors. It’s right next to Dennis Drop, where our friend Dennis hit a patch of black ice two winters ago and dropped over the edge into the top of a tree. Dennis walked away – but ruined a fine 87 Cadillac. Living this far from town gives us naming rights to roads and events. But I digress…
Unbelievably, another dog has been dropped off and is hanging around starving to death on Walela Bend. It’s been there for 4 days now, staying in one place (probably where it was left behind) and appears to be slightly injured – it has a limp, arched back, tail between legs. It’s not a puppy, but not very old either, and he has very lost, soulful eyes. Of course, I’m feeding it – but this time I’ve also tracked down the local Humane Society, and they say they’re going to send someone out and try to capture him. I cannot bring home another dog – our boys just wouldn’t have it.
It boggles my mind how these low-life moronic people can just drop a dog off in the middle of nowhere and be OK with that. It seems to happen more here, especially along this road, no doubt because they can do it without being seen. For this dog, euthanasia would be kinder than the long, slow death of starvation – but hopefully the Humane Society will be successful in getting him medical attention and a home. In the meantime, I’ll keep bringing him food and water and apologizing to him for the actions of the “walking dead” of the human race.