2nd March 2008

How I Adopted Cody Girl, A Chow Rescue Story

It was June, 1996.  I had adopted Baca (Cabaca meant black bear in Russian, pronounced Baka), from the Humane Society in Columbus, Ohio in the spring of 1996.  Baca was about six weeks old.  I bonded with her instantly - I made the mistake, however, of taking her to the park, and literally within hours Baca got sick with parvo.  It took me weeks to rehabilitate her, and I ended up getting some funding from a chow rescue organization to help with the medical expenses.  Right after Baca got better, I made the second mistake of letting her out the door one evening, and catching a telemarketer’s phone call (what was I thinking???).  In those brief moments, Baca ran down the stairs, and into a stranger’s arms - who whisked her away.  I searched for Baca for three months, got on the news, everything.  I learned about people in my neighborhood stealing chow puppies for horrible things, including pit bait, science experiments or to be sold through, yes, Petland. 

As I learned about the dog stealing rings and underworld of such, I decided that ignorance is indeed bliss.  I would soon move away from this neighborhood into the suburbs of NW Columbus, glad to be away from such horrible things.  But it was not until I discovered Cody, a 6-month chow mix waiting to be rescued in an unusual way.  Dog stealing rings tended to prey on chow or puppies that are “free to a good home” listed in the newspaper or on signs posted in front of people’s homes.  I became obsessed with the chows listed in the paper, and combed the listings every day.  I knew where Baca was, instinctively.  I dreamt  it (have had other dreams or visions like this that were proven true within hours or days), and knew my neighbors had her.  But I couldn’t prove it, unfortunately. 

One day, about three months after I lost Baca, I saw a pet ad about two chow mixes, free to a good home.  They were six months and a year.  I wondered if it was Baca, as she would be about six months old by now.  I called the owner, and heard the story in need of a rescue.  It turned out it was the neighbor, who had witnessed the dogs’ neglect and abandonment, and were placing an ad to rescue the dogs, free to a good home.   Baca had a pink tongue, which was rare for a chow.  I asked if the black chow mix had a pink tongue, but she didn’t.  Yet, for some reason, after hearing the story of neglect, I was compelled to travel to the east side of Columbus, in a less than desirable neighborhood, and check out these two chow mixes. 

I didn’t know much about chows then, and considering what I know now, was an idiot to walk into this stranger’s back yard, and meet two strange chow mixes.  Yet, at the same time, I connected with both of these chows immediately.  One was a red chow mix, and older it seemed, than Cody, the black chow mix.  Ironically, the red chow was apparently named Bear.  The black chow, who more than resembled a black bear, was named Cody. 

The neighbors told me that if someone didn’t adopt the chows in the next couple of days, they were going to turn the dogs over to the shelter.  I knew that dogs were euthanized at the shelter after three short days, so I was interested in keeping these dogs from their fate.  At the time, though, I lived in an apartment, with a less than desirable yard (as mentioned above), with less than desirable neighbors.  I noticed Bear, the red chow, had the beginning signs of what I suspected were mange or some skin disease.  Cody, the black chow, took to me immediately.  While it was clear that these two dogs were inseparable, I knew I could not take both.  This decision haunted me for years, and often I wanted to go back and get the other dog.  I heard Bear was also adopted, but I never was able to locate her. 

The neighbors told me that the dog owners were not home, and left four days out of every week, leaving the dogs outside to fend for themselves.  Cody and Bear were living on whatever Cody would bring back from her dog fence escapes, typically squirrels and rabbits.  It is amazing to me, now, to remember the days of Cody jumping over fences to fetch food.  One day, after I adopted Cody, I was sitting in the car at a landscape site where my then-boyfriend was working.  I was reading my book, Cody was checking out the wildlife in the area.  All of a sudden, Cody leapt through the door window, out of my SUV RAV/4, and went chasing after a squirrel.  I couldn’t believe it as we were a few feet off the ground.  That was my Cody, though.

I knew that Cody would go home with me - the neighbors were thrilled.  The dog owners’ Dad was there too - and he thought it was best that I should take Cody.  People perception and that was it, I suppose - no further questions asked or at least remembered.  Cody came up to me immediately, as  I kneeled down in the corner of the yard.  She looked right into my eyes - and there was wisdom, acknowledgement, and acceptance all at the same time.  As she went back to playing in the yard, Bear came up to me.  She sized me up, literally.  I could feel it.  But then, she looked right into my eyes, and put a paw on my knees.  I felt that Bear was saying, I know you are taking Cody, and I know you can’t take me too.  Take care of her - I trust you will.  It was wierd, downright bizarre. 

So, from Day One, Hour One, there was a spiritual connection with these two dogs.  After the dog owner’s father put Cody in my car, she began to freak out.  I wondered how I would get her home.  Cody had been fed of all things, pork rinds, by the neighbors.  Yes, those pork rinds ended up in my gear box, as poor Cody bolted around in my car.  She actually tried to go through the front window of my car.  It’s amazing we did not get in a wreck on the way home.  Note to self - when one rescues wild dog, put dog in contained section of car where one does not endanger oneself while driving. 

Cody began to display serious fear emotions that day, including fear of tall people, hats, me in high heels, any man in general which resulted in bolting, jumping out of her collar, running away, or worse yet, car sickness. 

I took Cody to an acupuncturist, Dr. Donn Griffith, on 161 & Sawmill.  I read up on chows, homeopathic remedies, and how to handle chow’s lack of trust of others.  I socialized her, spent hours every single night without fail at the dog park, known as Dog Happy Hour, at Goodale Park.  I worked, and worked, and worked with Cody.  There were days where she’d bolt at a loud noise, or run from her retractable leash, or lunge at a dog or two.  I thought I was in for it, looking back.  How easy it is to forget those days 13 years later. 

Cody was a good dog in the house, immediately, even though it was clear on her first day that she was distraught about leaving her home.  I suspected it was complete anxiety regarding leaving Bear more than anything.  Guilt settled in on that situation for a while, but I had no space and no money for both.  Everyone remarked how beautiful my dog was, and surely Cody was a gorgeous black bear chow.  I marvelled at how she immediately began to face out, at all times, watching and protecting me.  Cody never sat facing me, always faced out - always watching.  I heard the low tone growl when a man would approach me on the sidewalk, a good half block away.  I’d quietly reward her after the stranger would walk away, unnerved by Cody’s presence and growl, not to mention “stare”.  As a single woman, life couldn’t be better.  I was protected by Cody and it felt good.

I soon moved to an apartment in the Northwest section of town, with lots of fields for walking, and a more secure environment.  I started a dog walking service, and Cody would come with me on all my dog walks.  She became my tester, my pilot - if Cody didn’t like someone, or another dog, I trusted her judgment - immediately.  I knew something was wrong, off-kilter, if Cody had an issue.  I remember one time, a maintenance woman came into the house, and Cody smelled her, and stayed on her heels the entire time she was in my house.  The woman smelled of alcohol, no, “wreaked” of alcohol.  Cody didn’t like people who smoked or smelled of alcohol.  Neither did I for that matter, and perhaps that’s why Cody didn’t.  We were in agreement.   In fact, Cody would sneeze when someone smoked in proximity to her.  I’d laugh and we’d walk away - yes, Cody, I don’t like smokers either.  I’d tell the person that Cody was allergic to smoke, but quite frankly, so was I unofficially.

Cody introduced me to some of my best friends.  I always had a dog friend circle, because of her.  I met the most interesting, compassionate people.  If people had dogs, in general, I felt they were inherently good people.  I’ve met a few exceptions of course….  Cody also introduced me to Monroe. 

One August night, in 2003?, Cody kept bugging me about a noise she was hearing outside.  I heard something too, but couldn’t discern where the noise was coming from.  Kinda sounded like a sick bird flying overhead in the dusk hours.  It was the first chilly night, hints of the impending Fall season.  It was a kitten, no, two kittens, waiting to get some milk from Mom, scared, and crying, in the manifold of a moving truck in for the night in a nearby parking spot.  Cody pointed in the direction of that moving truck.  I’d walk near the truck, and the sound would go away.  I’d go back into the house, and Cody would beg to be let out.  She sensed distress.

Because of that night, I have a beautiful tuxedo cat of 4 1/2 years, at my feet, sleeping peacefully.  Cody brought me Monroe, which really was more her cat than mine.  But while Cody was spayed and couldn’t bring me an offspring, in some strange way, she brought me another cat, an offspring of sorts.  Cody mothered that kitten like it was her own puppy.  As a result, Monroe became another member of the household.  They brought me a lot of joy, observing them loving on one another, nuzzling, and pawing at each other.  It was true love, these two. 

Towards the very end, Cody had a hard time with any cat or dog bothering her, as she didn’t feel well.  Cody would snap at Monroe, as he entered the room, or lightly growl at him, or show her fangs as a warning.  I’d then admonish Cody for being a grump, but knowing what I know now, I understand her pain and less than willing desire to love on Monroe.  In some strange way, i wonder if Cody was protecting Monroe - if Monroe felt rejected by Cody, maybe he’d miss her a little less? 

A feral kitty rescued by a dog on a chilly August night, who was 12 1/2 years ago, rescued by me.  It was a nice tradition of giving back, or as some say, a way of paying it forward.  I often thought how strange it was, considering chow reputations, that she’d rescue a kitten of all things.  Monroe could get away with near murder, in Cody’s eyes.  Monroe would run around the room, and Cody would chase her.  Monroe would jump up in a chair and paw at Cody’s face - never a claw outreached - pure play, pure innocence.  Considering that to this day, Monroe paws at me, claws outreached, often biting me, I was amazed at the connection between these two rescued animals.  Cody would have this huge smile on her face - tail wagging, looking up at “her” kitty cat.

Neither Misha nor Monroe had such interactions with Cody, ever.  Only on occasion, did Cody play like this with Lucky.  She did play, however, with Brutus, Zandar, Nick, and recently Tucker.  She liked seeing Kasper, the little white westie, and Julie.  She liked seeing Sonny’s dog, and her new puppies.  She loved seeing little kids, despite what they said about chows and children.

As we took our final walk, there were two young boys who saw Cody and I walk by.  They yelled with glee, “puppy doggy!”  They ran out of the garage, mom out of sight, and asked if they could pet my “puppy doggy”.  If they had any idea, Cody was about to be put down, ugh.  These boys ran up to me, and I allowed them to pet Cody.  Despite Cody’s bad condition, her ears were soft, and her tail wagged just a bit. 

I hope there are lots of children for her to play with in heaven, a little kitten for her to adopt, and lots of love, sunshine, and cool weather, or a shady tree to sit under.

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