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Annie-Belle. In the cold light of day,
away from the emotion of that morning I looked at her. I saw her with a ravished
body, a result from the crime of puppy farming, a body so mis-shapen that it
hardly resembled a dog. This was her. My Annie. Frightened, abused, neglected
and lost. The smell of Annie was
nothing short of vile, like nothing you could ever imagine. It made you heave
from below the stomach. Months and years of sitting in ones own excrement and
gathering it from her “crate mates” contributed to this. Terrified is an
understatement, it took us hours for her to allow us to touch her, we persevered
and by late that evening she had been bathed and trimmed up, the water reminded
me of “mucky football kit water”, brown and thick with filth. The
new bed with warm cosy blankets was
a welcome escape, and the belly full of food given without conditions was
devoured in seconds, All in all it
was a perfect recipe for long awaited sleep. I remember looking at her
thinking “poor little dog”. I didn’t know it then but I realise it now
that what I should have thought is “You lucky girl” for she now had a chance
of life, she was free. The days passed quickly, we
dealt with all the doggy conditions, the mange, worms, fleas all the “not nice
things” that our dog friends may have. Annie was also blind in one eye, it had
been caught on a nail when she lived at the puppy farm. It was checked by our
lovely vet but thankfully all seemed well, a miracle really as I doubt that it
would ever have been attended to, I can’t imagine the pain that she would have
endured, such a brave girl, my Annie. I felt humble when I stood
in front of her, ashamed for my
human race, how can man treat dogs like this. Annie just fitted in, she
was so good, quickly she learnt what
the garden was for and she made us laugh with her display of excitement when
meal times came around. Gentle was an understatement, she was a darling. Day by day her confidence was growing, she let me groom her enjoying the attention and we progressed to a harness and lead and started on gentle walks, building up strength and stamina, slowly she was taking shape. The condition that Annie
came to us in was so very poor, she had obviously been starved of any care for
all of her life. I honestly don’t know how she had survived let alone endure
the endless amount of maternity duties put
upon her. A guardian angel could be the answer. I accepted her nervousness,
I made allowances for it, abuse at this degree couldn’t just disappear. I knew
it would take time, I had that time, all the time in the world for my Annie. So all was going well. Until
one Sunday. It was early evening and we were sitting in the shade of the sun, we
moved to stand and my Annie emitted
a scream. A blood curdling scream, and when I looked down
on her you could see that she was obviously in pain, her rear leg looked
awkward, limp and uncomfortable. I bent gently down to touch her but with fear
and flight as her instinct she was away up the garden dragging the leg behind
her. I knew what it was. I had seen the signs of Syringomyelia too many times
having lost two cavaliers with this awful genetic progressive illness already. That Monday morning I
contacted my vet and arrangements were underway for an MRI the following week,
meanwhile Annie continued to drag her leg for several days and remained very
quiet and subdued. The result of the MRI was
conclusive to Syringomyelia. I had owned Annie at the time of writing this for
ten short weeks. There isn’t a lot more to say except having Annie has been wonderful, I have cried and laughed with her, made mistakes and learnt with her, given love and received more in return from her and now I will stand with her, she is not alone now, no matter what comes she is mine and I am hers, we are bonded Annie and I. I love her.
Thank you to Alison
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