On the first night we volunteered to walk dogs for the rescue group, Jim Wenger drove Russell and me back to our vehicle. As we were leaving the parking lot, Jim’s parting words were: “Here. Take this leash and keep it in your truck. You’re gonna need it.” Nice gesture.
At the time, I threw Jim’s slip lead into the backseat, next to the purple one Helene kindly loaned me earlier in the evening, and simply thought he meant we were going to need it when we returned a few days later.
Wrong. He really meant we were gonna need a leash in the truck when we least expected, on days like today. And he was right.
This gal was on her last couple of hours at the city shelter. In fact, she’d already been in the lab and thiiiiiiiiiissss close to being euth’d when an animal rescue advocate intervened, hoping to coordinate something.
Luckily for Fifi, that’s when Russ and I arrived on behalf of our group to pick up a Chihuahua, who’d — despite having a nasty wound – been abandoned in the overnight drop box the night before. Poor little pipsqueaker. After processing the Chi’s paperwork, Mark, rescue coordinator extraordinaire, took me around the corner to meet “this dog in here.”
As Mark explained how Fifi had been granted a very short reprieve for the moment, Russell U-turned the other direction. I knew he didn’t want to see the dog we might have to leave behind. I got it.
There she was, though, right in front of me, but behind the bars. Fifi got up from her plastic bed, sat before us, and smiled. Black and white, part Corgi, part Border Collie: Borgi. Resistance was futile. Man, she was the cutest thing with such a neat spirit about her. Mark told me, “Yeah, so she was surrendered. Her owner died, and the family just couldn’t take her.”
Just so happened, I had an extra leash in my truck *per instruction* (cough, cough, cough), so I texted Jim and his wife, Tammy, for some kind of green light on my latest inability to say no. (I knew I probably wasn’t winning any popularity contests since we sadly can’t save them all.) As the world would have it, though, Bella’s dad, Merrin, agreed to step up as a foster and give Fifi a second chance. Outstanding. Things were definitely looking up for one more dog.
Russell grabbed the lead so we could take Miss Fifi to the front, and we sent the photo of Russ with our newest dog to the guy who gave us that first leash he warned that we’d need once upon a time ago. Unintentionally (or not), the tree above their heads blocked the “LOST” portion of the shelter’s sign, and Fifi’s first photo after her stressful journey to the pound was inadvertently titled: “& FOUND”. Appropriately so.
I hoped her owner — a woman who had cared for this dog as well as any of us could — would have been relieved that her friend Fifi was safe and on her way to a new beginning, too.
Victory . . . again. Good thing for Fifi, et al, I’m a sucker with an extra leash.
If you’d like to keep an extra leash (or crate) in your vehicle, rescues always need volunteers to transport animals to the vet, to events, to home visits, etc. Within the Dallas-Fort Worth area, contact DFW Rescue Me and complete a volunteer form.
To adopt Fifi, go here. She is a wonder dog, I promise.