The Lost Dogs (35 page)

At that time that she’d felt that as long as she was alive, as long as she inhabited this body, her grandmother would be with her, literally tattooed onto her. She felt the same way about Jasmine. So she sat in the chair and winced as the artist etched into her skin the image of a bird about to take flight. The bird was looking up and its eyes burrowed into whoever viewed it, just like Jasmine’s used to do. The tattoo was the bird that had sung to her that sad morning. The bird that was Jasmine.

The past turned over and over in Catalina’s mind. She didn’t want to revisit it. She didn’t want to entertain the “could haves” or the “should haves.” Nothing lives forever. Accidents happen. Life happens. Blame and remorse are not factors in the equation. If not now, if not this way, Jasmine would have died some other way.

Catalina often talked about such things with Karen Reese. They were kindred spirits in this sense—they believed in the purpose and connectedness of things and in the power of their instincts to guide them. Shortly after the gag order on the Vick dogs was lifted, Reese met with a journalist who wanted to write about them. She mentioned that she’d received many calls but that this was the only one she’d returned. The journalist thanked her for choosing him, but Reese interjected, “No, no, I didn’t choose you. You were sent to us; you were sent to us for a reason.”

Likewise Catalina and Karen believed that Jasmine had been sent to them for a purpose. They felt as though Jasmine had a mission in this life and having achieved what she set out to do, she had been freed to move on. Jasmine was off to do something else, somewhere else, while the rest of us were left to follow our own paths.

This is Jasmine’s purpose.

This is the story she tells.

Dutch, the little dog who rode in Nicole Rattay’s lap for large chunks of his cross-country journey, was eventually adopted by Linda Chwistek, the BAD RAP volunteer who helped develop the group’s Canine Good Citizen program (which has more than a hundred successful graduates). Chwistek was looking for a dog with the physique and athleticism to compete in agility competitions, timed races in which dogs run through a series of gates. Dutch had originally gone to another foster, but Chwistek saw him and thought he had potential. She took him in, renamed him Audie, and set to the training, but there were a few obstacles to overcome first.

To begin with, Audie—no surprise—had some behavioral issues. He fit right in with Chwistek’s two other pit bulls, but he circled in his crate, nipped clothes to get attention, and constantly jumped up on the table or kitchen counter. An experienced trainer, Chwistek could deal with those things, but Audie’s biggest problem was something she couldn’t handle herself; he needed surgery on both knees in his hind legs. In December of 2008 Audie went under the knife, a procedure financed by BAD RAP with the money from the Vick settlement.

While Audie recovered, Chwistek worked on his basic training and he became a star not only around the house but in the small northern California town where he lives. Every morning Chwistek walks her dogs down along the waterfront, where many commuters are heading for the ferry. Audie, shy at first, has become a favorite part of the scene. With Chwistek handing out treats to people, who then fed them to Audie, he came to know a group of regulars, including Bob the newspaper guy. If Audie’s running late, many of his friends will wait for him, as if the daily “hello” from the little pit bull is a part of their morning routine they can not miss. And when Audie sees Bob, he jumps in his lap. Once a week, Chwistek and her husband, Bill, take Audie out to a restaurant, so he can learn to settle down and relax in new and different situations.

In April 2009, Audie had finally recovered from his surgery enough that he could start his agility training. Chwistek worked with him twice a day, once in the morning and once in the evening. She also took him to a few competitions so he could see what went on and get used to the atmosphere. The full training program usually takes a little more than a year to complete, and Audie is on track to enter his first competition in the fall of 2010.

During the initial ASPCA evaluations, she was one of the worst of the low-response dogs, to the point where the team openly discussed euthanasia. She could hardly open her eyes and seemed unable to focus even when she did. However, since arriving at the home where she was fostered and then adopted, she’s done incredibly well. Like several of the other Bad Newz dogs, Sox has babesia, a bloodborne parasite that’s common in fighting dogs and can make them very ill. Veterinarians don’t know a lot about babesia because most fighting dogs don’t live long enough for them to study and work with the condition. In retrospect some of the evaluators now believe that on the day they first met Sox she was suffering through a particularly bad spike in her symptoms. In late 2009, she received her certification as a therapy dog.

When Curly arrived at Best Friends, he was so addled by kennel stress and pent-up energy that he bounced off the walls. He jumped and ran and paced so much that he couldn’t even live in a crate, it was just too confining for him. He had no idea how to deal with people, and when caregivers entered his run he’d jump up on them and nip at their clothes to get attention. At the same time, he was a bit afraid of other dogs and preferred to go for walks at night, when he couldn’t see them and they couldn’t see him. During those excursions he was notably more confident. As he had time to relax and the staff worked with him on his manners and basic training, he calmed down. Eventually he moved into a crate and came to really love it, finding it a safe zone where he could chill out. He made friends with a few other dogs, and even had one buddy he enjoyed wrestling with, but the other dog was so much bigger that the staff didn’t like the match. After Cherry Garcia was adopted, Curly moved into an office, where he spends his time with Mya, who he continues to grow closer to. Unfortunately, his training didn’t include office manners, and he went through a period where he ate everything he could find, pulling papers off desks, tearing up cardboard boxes. He occasionally goes home with one of the staff members and does well on those sleepovers, which have helped him deal with his lingering fear of new places. There’s even a family that wants to adopt him, but he needs to pass his Canine Good Citizen test before that can happen.

When Shadow landed at Best Friends, he was so nervous and paced so much that even with four feedings a day (double the norm) he couldn’t keep weight on. He avoided contact with people and often froze up, especially when going through doors or passing other dogs. Over time Shadow relaxed and blossomed into something of a big gangly teenager. Now close to seventy pounds, he’s clumsy and likes to snuggle himself into the smallest crates he can find. These days he shares his living space with another dog, maintains a healthy weight, and loves being petted by his caregivers.

Small and fun-loving Zippy has settled into the Hernandez household, a place filled with two other dogs and three children under the age of ten. The parents, Berenice and Jesse, have been fostering dogs longer than they’ve had kids, so the children have grown up with pit bulls and approach them without any of the prejudices most other people maintain. The two daughters, Eliana and Vanessa, roll and wrestle with Zippy in a way that would make those who don’t understand pit bulls cringe. But Zippy is great with all three kids, including Francisco, who’s only a toddler.

Makevelli was one of three Vick dogs signed over to a partnership of the Georgia SPCA and All or Nothing Rescue, which is run by tattoo artist Brandon Bond. An experienced rescuer, Bond has been saving dogs since witnessing a fight at a backyard party as a teen in his native Texas. “It melted me,” he says. “I couldn’t believe people were getting pleasure out of what I was seeing.” He was so disgusted that he vowed to do whatever he could to help combat the problem. He soon adopted his first pit bull, Cain, who’s still with him. Shortly after he started All or Nothing, based in Smyrna, Georgia, and the organization has since saved more than four hundred dogs.

Bond fostered Makevelli himself and soon realized that like many of the Bad Newz dogs, Mak, as he’s called, had fear issues, especially around people. “If you opened a soda bottle next to him, he might shoot across the room,” Bond says. In particular, Mak “seemed to be afraid of large men,” Bond continues. “He loved my wife—she’s only five feet tall—and he seemed to trust people who were with other dogs, but he had a lot of fear.” Bond’s house was a hive of activity with people and dogs coming and going all the time. The scene allowed Bond to help Mak settle down by providing a stable environment with a steady cast of friends, but also to build trust and confidence by introducing a rotating cast of people and dogs. Mak adjusted, and while he still battles moments of anxiety, he has found a happy rhythm—and “a girlfriend.” Among the many animals at Bond’s house, there was a female foster pit bull named Annie Oakley that Mak took a particular liking to. “They were inseparable,” says Bond. “He hated it when she was in the other room. The poor guy had it bad.” Or the opposite.

Another one of the dogs that made the RV trip from Virginia to northern California, Grace went home to San Diego with Nicole Rattay. Grace was adjusting well and making progress in her training, but after a year in Southern California she had no takers on the adoption front. The BAD RAP brain trust thought she might stand a better chance up north where the group had a larger reach, so Grace was shipped back to Donna Reynolds and Tim Racer, who turned to one of their ace-in-the-hole foster volunteers, Cris Cohen. Grace has spent the past year with Cris and Jen, and they’ve been impressed with her smarts even as they’ve been overwhelmed by her boundless energy. She still seems a little leery of people at times, but for the most part carries on without any problems. She gets along well with Lilly, but she and Jonny have become like two shoes in a pair. They love to play fetch and tug together, and if they could, they’d spend the entire day wrestling in the yard.

Bonita was another dog that suffered from babesia and it compromised her immune system and made her very sick at times. She also had a lot of scars, broken or worn-down teeth, and a run-first reaction to other dogs that led her handlers to wonder if she too had been a bait dog. Like Little Red, Bonita flashed a nervous smile, although in her case it was even more endearing because she had a sort of crooked face that indicated nerve damage and made her sideways grin that much more winning and heartbreaking at the same time. She was another dog that liked to sit in any warm lap she could find. Her already problematic teeth further deteriorated and she required an operation to fix them. In February 2008, she went into the clinic for dental surgery and never woke up from the anesthesia. She’s buried at Eagle’s Rest, the cemetery at Best Friends.

When Ginger arrived at the SPCA, she was a timid shell of an animal, greatly in need of compassion, patience, love, and understanding. In her early days Ginger clung to the safety of her crate and resisted any effort to draw her out. She had no idea what to do with common comforts for dogs, such as squeaky toys and beds. Stacy Dubuc, the woman who first fostered and then adopted Ginger, slowly introduced her to a normal existence and showed her how to enjoy the experiences available to her.

Ginger has evolved into a happy and loving dog that enjoys running in the yard, playing with toys, and eating treats. She gets incredibly excited when she sees her leash, knowing that she is either going for a ride in the car or on a walk. She loves exploring, and in the car she spends much of the time with her nose smushed against the window. Most of all, she loves curling up for a nap on the couch or taking up more than her share of the bed as she snores the night away.

One of the younger dogs in the group, Halle had no scars and no fear of other dogs. She was afraid of people at first, but she was so good with dogs that she became the dog the staff used to test other dogs. She was so calm and welcoming that she often could bring other dogs out of their shells. As she has adapted to being around people, she has become very relaxed and loves attention. Eventually one of the Best Friends caregivers who has six other dogs and a few cats took her home as a foster and she fit right in. The move sped up her progress, and in July 2009 she became the first of the Vick dogs at Best Friends to be adopted. Her new family has another pit bull and Halle gets along great with it.