Loving Johnny Lee

Previously written June 28, 2008


When I first saw him he was emaciated. His tiny back was turned toward me and I could see all his ribs poking out through his dirty grey fur. I stuck my finger through the wire of the run he shared with a whacked-out rat terrier and he turned slightly to his left and gave it a tiny, little, tentative lick. When he stood I noticed his sucked-in stomach and a thick, 3-inch wide collar fastened, tightly, around his throat. The computer print-out taped to the wire between us said his name was "Butch" and he was a 3-year-old male. "A stray at large" from Dinuba, it said, and that he'd been in custody for three weeks. Also, he'd been neutered the previous Friday and this was Monday, August 7th. His fur had been clipped mainly to give him an "adoptable" appearance, but it still looked rather matted and dull.
I told the young volunteer that I'd like to see the dog outside of the run and he gladly brought out a cheap nylon leash that he somehow hooked to the little dog's neck. He then told me where to take the dog. "We have a grassy area you can walk him in," he said and we headed out to get acquainted.
I can tell you I wasn't much impressed because he kept peeing every couple of seconds. Also, there was a large pot-bellied pig penned in the same area and it seemed to drive the dog crazy. The "lick-preventive" collar he wore had a long red cord attached to it that was wound around his right leg and then back through the collar at the neck again. It irritated me to think someone couldn't have done a neater more comfortable job about it.
I'd already filled out the long adoption application, but I thought I'd better think about it first. When I took the dog back, I told the people at the front desk that I'd have to make a phone call first. They said OK and I stepped out front of the facility to call my husband. My husband, knowing I'd recently been dealt a huge blow when the sweet little dog of my sister's I'd baby-sat daily was run over by a car at their home, said I should follow my heart and if I truly wanted this dog I should, "write the check!"
After hanging up with him, I said to myself, "I don't want to make a mistake and what if this dog is a wreck? I'll just sleep on it tonight and if I still want him I'll come back tomorrow."
I went inside and told the girls I'd wait to talk it over with my husband some more and they were great. They said they'd hold my application for me and if I decided I still wanted him, he'd be there in the morning.
As I turned to go, I had a thought! Why don't I take a picture of the dog with my camera phone so my husband can see what he looks like.
I told the front desk what I was doing and they said OK. I went back in to the holding area for the adoptable dogs and asked a volunteer boy, about 11 years old , if I could get the dog I was looking at and take a picture of him. He said he'd let me in and we found "Butch" at the back room of the run where I'd seen him before. I knew I hadn't noticed him on my first pass through the facility and this was reason why. There was a pass-through cut out in each run for an indoor area and outdoor area and this little dog preferred to stay back here alone because as I said before, his cell-mate was out of control.
The boy let me in and I took out the phone. Just then the little guy started looking a little scared, sort of crouching. The boy asked me if I was going to take him and I said I'd think about it, but right now I just wanted a picture to show my husband.
"He's a real nice little dog," the boy said. "You're familiar with him?" I asked. "Yeah, he just needs a lot of good food and some love and I know he'll be a great pet."
"What am I doing?" I thought, "I could be passing on my dog!!!" I told the kid to take him out, he was going home with me.
When I led the dog out to the front desk and told the girls I was taking him home, they all cheered and congratulated me.
This was one hot afternoon remember, August! I led him to my car a ways down from the office and when I opened the door, he jumped right in to the passenger seat. I got in the car, turned on the air conditioner, and started home with my new friend.
As we drove together down a long service road that leads to the main highway from the SPCA, I looked over at him and then it happened. Something so amazing, if I wasn't there, I might not believe it.
The grubby, skinny, little guy looked deep into my eyes with his huge, round, brown ones; and he sighed loudly! What happened next took my breath away - I had to stop the car!!! He propped his little front paws up on the console between us and buried his head deeply into my shoulder. I, as I'm doing now, wept and held him close. "You're with your momma now, do you understand?" I sobbed, " You never have to be afraid again!"
We drove home from that place in the road, both blissfully knowing, we'd found what we'd been searching for; for a long time.
I still don't know how he made it alone for those three years without me to care for him. By the looks of his body, he'd never had much to eat - remember he'd been fed regularly for three weeks at the SPCA!!
At first I couldn't shake the thoughts of him wandering alone, cold and hungry on the mean streets of Dinuba. I'll never know where he started. How adorable and sweet a puppy he was. Or how God protected him until He could lead him to my arms.
I do know his life was hard. I know the first two nights in our home he was frightened and still. As he slept, his head shook with tremors, and when awake the kennel cough made him miserable.
Dale and I vowed his life from that point on would be comfortable and happy. We fed him the best food money can buy, bought him all kinds of toys to play with.
I held his stinky little body close against me (I couldn't bathe him until his neuter suture healed) and told him how much we loved him and how smart and handsome he was. He was road worn and desperate for love. Though by the time we got to his first check-up at the vet's, the cough was all but gone and he'd already started to gain weight.
Today he doesn't even remember the life he lived before that hot August day when we met. All he knows is each morning, Daddy is going to fill his and his "Sissy's" dishes up with their favorite "Chickie Mix" (Bil Jac, Costco roast chicken) and pour good, fresh water into their bowl. Then Momma will get up to spend some good "Mommy & Baby-time" with them too.
Now he loves going for long walks on his leash. He runs like a "gazelle", we always remark, after gophers and squirrels at the cemetery and park. He has a favorite stuffed toy we all call "Baby" which he fetches and seeks out each night to bring to bed with him. If Momma stays up late, he refuses to go in with Daddy and Sissy. Instead, he snoozes in the guest room until he hears me turn off certain lights in the house. Then he bounds out of the bedroom and walks ahead of me to our room where I tuck him into Daddy's shoulder and he curls up for another night in which he'll never again have to waken to hunger, cold, loneliness and uncertainty.
Oh how we love you Johnny Lee! -Momma'