Freckles and her bad neighbors

Working in the vet clinic one day we all were shocked when this couple brought in a dog that they'd found wandering around loose. The animal had no hair and was covered in scabs. Upon inspection the animal was found to be female and very malnourished and infected with Sarcoptic mange.

This isn't "Freckles" but unfortunately this is what she looked like when we first saw her.


The Dr.s recommendation was turpentine dips, one every week until better. The people who found her didn't want another dog but they didn't want to leave her like that so they took her in and agreed to pay for the treatment of the dog (who was extremely shy and cowardly)until she was better and then she would be placed up for adoption. They named the dog, Freckles.

So the treatment began, every week Freckles had to be loaded into the car, drove to the clinic, stay for a few hours while she was bathed and dipped and placed in a kennel to dry (can't use blow dryers with turpentine dips), then drug out to the car for the ride home. This went on for months. Eventually Freckles got to the point where she didn't have to be dragged, then soon she walked instead of slinked, after a few months she even wagged her tail and looked delighted when patted. With the change in attitude can a change in her body. She had turpentine dips for about 6 months. At the end of the 6 months the only scabs that remained were a few small ones on her head. All her fur was growing back nicely too. She looked like a new dog. It was decided by the new "owners" that after spending hundreds of their own money to fix this dog that she would be going up for adoption the following week.

The day after Freckles left the hospital with the adoption pending declaration the owners rushed in. They were carrying a limp Freckles. The top of her scalp was sliced open and she was unconscious. The story was that she had been found on the other side of a hole under the fence laying in the neighbors yard. We rushed her into the treatment area and gave her what treatment we could, which included several stitches to the top part of her head and supportive therapy among other things. The "owners" left that night not knowing if she'd survive.

Freckles had come around by morning but was showing slight signs of brain damage. She was disoriented, couldn't see or walk straight, couldn't stand without support, couldn't even hardly eat or drink. The "owners" were back that day with more of what had happened. The neighbor said that he had seen his horse kick Freckles while she was chasing it. Of course the "owners" were very upset, the neighbor had openly admitted to seeing her get "kicked" so why had he just left her lie there? How had a horse's hoof sliced Freckles head open so cleanly?? They left that day with more questions than answers and it was still not sure that Freckles would survive. She was having to be force fed every meal and have regular doses of IV fluids and meds.

We treated Freckles for several days and the "owners" were back every day still searching for answers and still finding none. It finally got to a point where we were able to tell them that she would survive but we weren't sure what kind of dog she would be now and what she would be able to do. Would she ever run again? She was starting to be able to stagger out to the bathroom on her own. Would she ever gulp down her food and look greedily for more?? She was licking some water. This treatment went on for weeks and hundreds more were spent.

Then, at last, it was decided that Freckles was ready to leave the hospital, she had treatments to do at home still but intense therapy was no longer necessary she would fully recover and be a normal dog again. The day before Freckles was discharged from the hospital the owners came into the clinic to visit, as they always did. They finally had a few answers, and new questions. The neighbor, after having a police call threatened, admitted that his horse hadn't kicked Freckles. The neighbor said that she had been chasing his chickens happily around the yard and he had gone out with a shovel and hit her on the head. That horrifying revelation led to more questions, why hadn't he simply taken her home, she hadn't hurt anything? Freckles was still a timid dog, why hadn't he yelled at her, she would have lit for home? Why was she standing close enough to be hit, did he call her over? We had noticed a regression in her behavior and attitude at the hospital but had assumed that it was because of the injury, not because of what lead up to the injury.

The story does have a good ending though, although a bit sad. The owners had decided that this was the final straw, Freckles was theirs for good and had her home. They also decided that they couldn't live next to someone like their neighbor and were searching for a new location to live. Freckles went home the next day to a permanent home with people that loved her but not a permanent location. She would never walk through our clinic doors again.

Chewed door knobs?

In the vet hospital that I worked at all the door handles bore the marks of another great escape. Curious, I asked the head vet and owner why all the handles were chewed. This is the story she related to me. The vet got here one morning to find a dog loose in the front room and gnawing away at the front door. There were no clips on the door latches of the runs at that time to hold them securely in place. The dog had jumped at the gate in the middle of the night and popped the latch up and open. He then started on the kennel door and chewed the knob of the door until it was no longer smooth and could be turned. He then grasped it with his teeth turned the knob and pulled. When through that door he then picked another and started chewing again. Door by door he made his way out to the front room. I guess he figured he was going to find his master and go home. Then when no master appeared in the front room he worked on the front door. If the head vet hadn't arrived when she did who knows how long it would have taken the dog to figure out the front deadbolt.

Roxy the Great Dane

Jumping escapes are common enough and I’ve heard many other stories from different vet offices that have these stories; it’s a hazard of kennels everywhere. There have been some creative breakouts though. Another dog that escaped the kennel was Roxy the Great Dane. Roxy thankfully had a home and was just there for routine work. There was no problems taking her to the kennel and she promptly lay down and relaxed on the blanket provided. There was another dog in the kennel beside her that contained a dog at the time that was having some back problems and the animal had to be hospitalized for a time. The owner of this dog came that day to visit and I showed her in. I had to do something up front and was gone out of the kennel for about 2 minutes, in this time frame Roxy decided she’d had enough of the cramped quarters and it was time to go. When I walked back into the kennel she was sitting quietly in a far corner looking extremely pleased with herself and for the entire world like she was saying “think camouflage”. Needless to say, it’s not difficult to spot a 175 lb Great Dane relaxing where there isn’t any kennels. Taking her collar in hand I walked around the corner. The visiting woman was petting her dog and she looked up at me with an amused expression. Lying between the runs and the wall was the door of the kennel. The latch and clip hung mockingly, securing nothing. The client had been petting her dog and talking with him, when all of a sudden there was a crash and Roxy came trotting on past. She had simply pried her paws under the kennel door and used them as levers to lift the entire gate off its hinges. We had to bring in the tools and reverse one of the hinges to keep her in.

The funny thing about animal work...

The funny thing about the animal profession is that you can’t ever predict the things that are possible and will happen. Working in the kennels even before becoming a veterinary technician taught me that. For example, you can never guarantee that a particular animal will still be in the cage that it was placed in five minutes later. There are a few that I remember specifically, the first was a boxer, about 6 years old, that was brought into the vet’s office by a rescue to be euthanized, they had saved her from a shelter and had housed her for several years. No one would ever consider adopting her, so the rescue had to make room to try and save a younger, more adoptable dog. This boxer was placed in a six foot tall run and after being secured there proceeded to follow me back into the next room. Brushing past me she raced to the door to be let outside. Puzzled I went to her and patting her placed a lead around her neck. Taking her back to the run I noticed three things: the door was closed, the latch was hooked, and the clip holding the latch was securely in place. I had indeed locked her in. There was only a foot of space between the top of the kennels and the ceiling, almost impossible for a dog of her size to squeeze through, not to mention the lack of room in the kennel to obtain a running start. Placing her back in the run I walked to the end of the hall and turned around to watch and wait. It wasn’t a long wait. Without even taking a step she jumped straight upward, grabbed into the chain link with her paws, clawed her way up the next three feet, oozed herself between the gate and ceiling, and dropped to the floor. She was thrilled. I wasn’t as happy however, all my enclosed cages that would be a comfortable size for her were full of patients and boarders. I ended up having to place her in a cramped fully enclosed kennel that we didn’t use much, these type of kennels were dark, and difficult to clean, and in order to clean them you had to be on your knees on the cold cement floor. She spent the next few hours there. I wish I could say that this brave happy dog found a home by showing her spirit but unfortunately not all stories can end with happy endings.