From Abused to Unequivocal Love

I am in a shih tzu rescue. One of my friends, who was the manager of a local animal shelter at the time, texted me a photo of this greasy, shaggy, semi-hairless, but apparently full-bred shih tzu whose left eye was practically laying on his cheek. He had been brought into her shelter by the animal control officer who, based on the tzu's condition, advised my friend to put him down. Instead, she texted me and asked if my rescue could take him. I got approval to go get him, take him to our vet, and eventually foster him. When I went to pick him up, he was a mess. I carried him to my car, holding him at arms-length, and took him straight to our vet. Three days later, I went to pick him up. He had been bathed and his coat was shining; his eye had been removed and the opening expertly stitched so that you really couldn't tell that the eye was missing; and he had been neutered. He was handed to me, and he looked up at me with total trust in his one good eye as I carried him like a baby to my car -- and I knew immediately that I was a goner. He was going nowhere. He was home. I was later told by a doggie skin specialist that the hair on his rear-end would probably never grow back as a result of some kind of trauma -- the same trauma that more than likely cost him his eye. We did comb-overs in that area, and, although he had no undercoat there, his coat looked pretty enough. He lived with me for 12 wonderful years before I finally had to have him put down. Never in my life have I loved a dog as much as I loved him. He was my "soul dog," and I pray that I see him again some day.

Margaret Harpr
ARLINGTON, TX