Texas Boxer Rescue - Luke
Goodbye my Angel...
Just as I'll never be sure where Luke came from, I'll never know for sure who was the rescuer and who was the rescued! Luke's story (or the part I know) started on a Saturday morning in 1993. I had been to the grocery store and as I turned in the drive, I saw Spike go under the deck to his favorite nap spot. Only after I called “Spike, I'm home!” and got no reaction did my daydreaming mind register again that Spike had lost his battle with bladder cancer 5 months earlier.
The previous 2 years had been a time of great loss and turmoil for me. My Father, my best friend and ally, had died suddenly; my brief marriage had dissolved; my favorite Aunt had succumbed to lymphoma; and I had returned to college after the job I loved had disappeared when the company was bought out. Through all those traumas, Spike (a Dobe, GSD cross) had been there to dry my tears with his huge tongue and offer his big shaggy shoulder to lean on. For 13 years he had loved and protected me, and when he lay across my lap the final time and we ended his pain, it seemed as though my own life was ending. And in a way it did. All the joy in living was gone; I functioned, but only that.
On that Saturday morning in 1993 as I stood in my yard wondering, how did that dog get inside the fence? And, where is Olga, (my very territorial female GSD)? My apathy threatened to return. I was ready to go open the gate and allow whatever dog was under the deck to exit, when Olga came out of the house and began to “herd” me toward the deck. As we got closer, I noticed blood on the brick walkway. At that point, the animal rescuer part of me (which had been dormant for several months) surfaced. I went under the deck and discovered a large black and tan dog with bullet wounds in his throat and chest.
With much coaxing, pulling and panting I was able to extract him from under the deck and get him in the car. We made it to the vet and after several hours of X-rays, surgery, a blood transfusion, and an IV, the Dr. felt that he would survive. Several days later, I was able to bring him home and install him in a crate in the garage laundry room. Five days later, as I opened the garage door to get the lawnmower out, a black and tan “blur” literally ran over the top of me! Because of his throat wound, the then still nameless dog had no collar on and now he was loose!
The next 8 weeks were the most amazing period of my life. All thought revolved around catching this dog. He stayed very close to my house, would accept food and treats from me, and allowed me to pet him on the head. But I could not get a slip-lead on him, no matter how hard I tried! I tried to trap him, I tried to tranquilize him, and I tried to lure him back into the car or garage with food. Nothing worked! And slowly, without my even noticing, I began to feel and enjoy again. At some point I began to call this “stubborn stranger” Luke and he began to recognize that as his name. One morning, in desperation, I tried again to get him into a large live-trap baited with hamburger. I held my breath as he approached and sniffed the trap, he was heading toward it – YES, finally, he was going in! He walked right to the door of the trap and… LIFTED HIS LEG ON IT! Then he stalked away and flopped in the yard with his back to me. When I called his name only an ear twitched. I dissolved in laughter at the spectacle of his wounded dignity. I sank, to the ground and laughed until I cried!
Then, through the tears, a massive head appeared and nuzzled me! He seemed to say “OK, my work here is done!” I slipped a lead over his head and we went to the vet for heartworm testing, neutering and another round of vaccinations. He rode in the car perfectly, and walked on a lead as if he had always done so.
In the following months, several pieces of shrapnel surfaced in various places on Luke's body. A 22 bullet was removed from one back leg. X-rays revealed that a bullet had broken his other back leg and pieces of it had healed into the bone. A foreign body reaction fistula opened in the leg and reoccurs periodically. And always as I clean and medicate it, I take a few moments to thank whoever is in charge of assigning angels. You see, my special Angel, Luke, had arrived just when I needed him most!
Wanda Brawner
Texas Boxer Rescue
