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| Name: |
D. C. (Mother's Darling Corgi)
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Age: |
Three and a half years old
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| Gender: |
Female
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Breed: |
Pembroke Welsh Corgi |
| Home: |
Des Plaines, Illinois, USA
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My
little female had just had her first litter at just over a year
old. We had been traveling up and down the eastern seaboard shoeing
horses when we came across the opportunity to be part-owner of a
tavern in Tennessee. One of my employees had put D.C. and I up in she
and her boyfriend's mobile home when we all had a huge falling out.
She changed the locks on the house and took my dog and her six pups to
a shelter two townships over. By the time I figured out where my
life's companion was, I was in my truck making tracks to Putnam
County Humane Society to get them.
When I got there (the day after they had been left in drop off boxes)
only three pups were there and new management had taken over. There
was no paper work on D.C. and the new manager assumed that she had
been put down with over twenty other animals the day she was brought in.
I was devastated. When I was finally able to think, I started
screaming about how anyone in their right mind could put down a
healthy, nursing, pure-bred dog.
I had stopped eating. Two days after my experience with the humane
society, I called the manager to inform her of where I was staying
and asked her if she had heard anything. She said no, but promised to
call if she did. The next day she called and informed me that a girl
who had worked there under the previous management called and when
asked, she remembered a car stopping to use the restroom, seeing the
female and took her. She remembered the county on her license plates
and that her car was red. I was shaking. I called every vet in that
county - to no avail. The manager of the humane society also called
vets and got me the name of several breeders. By this time, almost
two weeks had gone by, no one was returning any of my phone calls and
I had given up hope. I had lost weight, was no longer sleeping at
night and couldn't work.
On a Sunday afternoon, one of the breeders returned my phone call,
asking why I had called. I informed her that I guess I wanted to
purchase one of her pups. She asked if I had ever owned a Corgi. I
explained that I had actually just lost my best friend two Thursdays
before. She asked me where she had been lost, and what she looked
like. I thought this woman was being overly sensitive to my
depression, but explained to her that she and her pups had been
stolen, I had recovered three pups from the Putnam County Humane Society,
but my petite baby girl who is a tri was gone. She asked me if she
had any identifying marks or characteristics (I pictured her writing
all this down to take to shows or to vets' offices to help me out). I
told her about D.C.'s white half collar, the mole under her chin, she
has five teats on one side and six on the other, was nursing, and
she answered to a little song I had made up for her. The woman
chuckled on the phone and asked me about the song. I told her that
D.C. was my second Corgi and being so petite (pick of the litter) I
called her "Itty Bitty." Her song goes like
this..."Itty Bitty, Itty Bitty, etc. (to the tune of 'Hello
Mudder, Hello Fader, here I am at Camp Granada).
Out of the blue, I hear my little dog start whining and howling over
the phone. This wonderful woman had my little girl! Within 45 minutes
through a torrential rain storm, my best friend and I were reunited.
She had lost a considerable amount of weight and the woman had taken
D.C. to the vet to have her teeth cleaned, shots and to be groomed
(they even shaved all her whiskers and eyebrows off - looked pretty
funny!). When D.C. saw her mommy, she piddled on the floor and whined
and whined until I bent over to snatch her into my arms. I have never
been so elated before in my life. I'm teared up now writing this and
it happened three years ago. Loosing a dog (daughter) is like loosing
a part of yourself. My Darling Corgi is never out of my sight and I
love on her every day like it were our last together.
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