| BOODI, THE WHITE TOY POODLE She was a dirty grey blob of hopelessly matted fur. There were few teeth left in the severely infected gums. I wrote on the admissions form: STRAY: Possibly dumped. BREED: Toy Poodle. SEX: Female. COLOR: White. AGE: Elderly 10+. CONDITION: Poor. That was all. I had worked in Animal Welfare long enough to know the outcome of this case. She was neglected, old, unloved and intentionally lost. Her owners had tossed their aged pet aside, probably in favor of a new puppy. We would hold her for the eight days required by law and at the end of that time she would be put-to-sleep, calmly and painlessly, by lethal injection. There was no alternative. She was too old to find another home. That night I took her home with me. It was against the rules, of course, but I would bring her to work each day just in case the owner should turn up. I called her Boodi. That night she was bathed and clipped. It wasn't an elaborate Poodle clip. I trimmed the mats and filth and knots just enough to make her comfortable, rubbing the sore places with soothing ointment. Our own dogs and cats accepted Boodi with the same patient tolerance they showed towards the puppies, kittens, possums, lambs and birds that were the frequent temporary visitors to our home. Boodi settled in with us straight away. She spent that first evening curled up on my husband's knee and when we retired for the night she informed us that she intended to sleep on the bed as well. She had obviously been someone's much loved pet. Why was she now lost and neglected? Boodi had one very strange habit. Whenever she wished to relieve herself she would stand on her front legs with her hind legs in the air and urinate in this incredible position. Our Vet said it was due to a deformity of the spine, not uncommon in her breed. I had never seen anything like it before. The eight days were soon up and Boodi was one of the many scheduled for euthanasia. Half way through the fatal morning, I received a phone call from my husband. "Bring her home," he said. "It's only one little extra mouth to feed." Boodi might have stayed with us forever but for the state of her mouth. By the time we met, the cancer had already taken a firm hold. "It's spreading fast," our Vet said. "I really should put her down today but she's a nice little dog and she's not suffering yet. Take her back home and give her a few more weeks of love. You will know when the time is right to let her go." Thus Boodi had six more weeks of love with us. She trotted at my heels around the Victorian Animal Aid Refuge by day, and slept on our bed at night. She was brushed and fed and cuddled and loved. We tried to compensate for the rejection and loss of someone who must have loved her once. When I knew that the little Poodle was starting to suffer I decided to end her life. Monday was euthanasia day at the Animal Refuge. I held Boodi myself as I have held hundreds of dogs and cats for the last seconds of their lives. As the little white body slumped in my arms I held her close and allowed myself the rare luxury of tears. "I did my best Boodi," I said and left the empty shell of my small friend lying on the table as I walked out of the clinic. I couldn't hold any more dogs that day. Late in the afternoon I answered the phone to a lost dog call. "I don't suppose it's much good phoning you after all this time," the voice said, "but I've been in the hospital for the past four months and the people who were looking after my little dog didn't tell me that she had gone missing. She is a white Toy Poodle, twelve years old." "Did she have any distinguishing marks or special characteristics?" I asked as I filled out the card in the lost and found file. "There are lots of Toy Poodles around," I told myself as I wrote. "Well, she did have one special, funny, little habit,"
continued the quiet voice on the other end of the phone. "I know it sounds
rather strange but whenever she needed to urinate she would stand on her front legs with
her hind legs in the air. I guess you've never seen a dog do that before?" |