On my way to visit my horse I used to drive past an old black Newfoundland dog tethered outside a yellow house. The dog was big and hairy and motionless. He lived in a shabby dog house placed under a big tree. On cold days all you could see was his clothesline disappearing into his house. On the searingly hot days he lay in a depression he’d dug himself in the ground.
I felt terrible every time I saw him. Often I averted my eyes. And then one day, I didn’t see him. The clothesline was empty and I was glad. I wish I could say I thought he’d gone to live with people who welcomed him into their home, people who took him for walks and for swims, and people who took the time to pat his broad head, but the truth is that he probably died out there in his hole in the yard.
After that, when I drove past that house and saw the chain dangling on the ground, I was relieved that at least he’d escaped.
Then, about three weeks ago, that chain wasn’t empty anymore. I nearly crashed my car when I saw the little short-haired black puppy standing in the middle of the yard, looking confused but heartbreakingly hopeful in that way puppies have.
Another dog had lost the lottery.
A few days ago I went by and saw that the pup’s chain was wrapped around a tree. I pulled over the car and unwrapped her and gave her a cuddle. Her owner saw me and asked what I was doing and I explained that she’d been tangled up. There was much, much more I wanted to say, but I didn’t.
I’ve been having trouble sleeping for the past three weeks. We’ve had relentless wind and rainstorms and I can’t stop thinking about that little pup alone in her wet and drafty dog house. Today it’s snowing and I know from previous experience that the SPCA won’t do anything if a dog has food and shelter, so calling them would be a useless exercise.
Yesterday, I bought the puppy a couple of toys and a chew bone and dropped them off. I gave her her plush toy to play with and put the rest of the stuff on the front porch of the house. The owner came out again and told me I was on private property and should get off. So I went.
If I was a different kind of person, a braver and more confrontational one, I’d have asked the woman if she’d give the puppy to me. Or sell the puppy to me. I’d have told her that at very least, the pup needs a collar that isn’t too tight and insulation in her dog house. I’d have told the woman that the puppy needs a fenced yard and to be allowed inside at night. But I didn’t.
Life is full of people and animals that have lost the lottery. It’s funny how some of them get under our skin.
I think I’m going to approach the city and talk to them about anti-chaining bylaws. It may not work, but it’ll be one way to deal with sleepless nights and regret over all the things I’m too afraid to say. I hope like anything that puppy’s luck changes.