Published Friday, January 25, 2008 1:19 PM
Updated Friday, January 25, 2008 1:20 PM

 

Priest's confessions

Good deeds, good men, Goober dogs


No good deed goes unpunished - Emily Dickinson.

This phrase often is quoted by a good friend of mine. I've thought of this saying lately - a lot - in regards to my family's recent adoption of Harry the Coonhound. Harry was punished for barking by his former owners. They wrapped his mouth shut with wire and left it there until it was imbedded in his skin. Eventually, his owners tied him to a fence at the Aiken County Animal Control facility where the good people there found him. They did what they could to repair his face and mouth, but despite their efforts Harry easily qualifies as the world's ugliest dog. But there's an endearing quality that comes with that title.

We hadn't planned to adopt another animal. Our household was overrun by the three dogs, two children, and two adults who were already living there. I found out about Harry through Molly's Militia, an animal rescue group I volunteered with in Aiken. These volunteers rescue animals that are close to being euthanized at animal shelters. They foster, train and love them until a home is found, however long that may be. They also help the shelters in any way they can. One of the volunteers sent out a mass mailing about Harry and his situation. Despite publicity, Harry's "forever home" was not found.

On the day before Harry was to be put down, I called my husband Jeff who still resides in Aiken and tearfully begged him to let me bring Harry into our already chaotic household. Being the good man he is, he agreed to let me adopt Harry despite the fact that he was the one who would be left to care for Harry during the week. I would only have that chore on weekends.

"But this is it," he said. "We don't have room for any more dogs in our bedroom at night."

Harry is 80 pounds of pure exuberance. He is joyful at being free and enraptured with being loved - probably for the first time in his life. He bounds everywhere. He steps on the other dogs, he wants all the food. He does not listen.

We realized he didn't know his name and we thought about changing it. Weeks later, my 16-year-old son, who has a wonderful sense of humor, said,

"He's such a goober."

So now Harry is as likely to be called Goober as he is Harry.

At night our dogs sleep on their very comfortable doggie beds, but during good weather, our dogs roam in our large back yard during the day. Georgia, one of our other dogs, digs and sometimes escapes the yard. But she's smart about it. She digs, goes to visit the neighbors and comes back under the fence, sometimes with a stolen bowl in mouth. She's taught Harry to escape. And escape he does. Five days last week. I got calls left and right from people who'd found Harry and had no desire to keep the world's ugliest dog. My husband and daughter spent their entire week chasing Harry, answering calls about Harry, going to get Harry.

My husband has since spent hours reinforcing the fencing and getting a nasty case of poison ivy. He's a good man.

Despite all of this, we love Harry. It hurts me to see Harry cringe when we approach as he remembers past abuse. (I hope there's a particularly bad place in the afterlife for those who abuse animals and children. Conversely, there is a special place in heaven for those who spend their days assisting these helpless creatures.)

Help in any way that you can. Open your home to give an animal a "forever home." You'll be repaid many times over. Volunteer to play with and walk the animals. Spay or neuter your pets to help the out-of-control animal population. Donate pet food, blankets, towels, money and time to our own local Frances R. Willis SPCA.

I'll do my part by taking care of and loving my four rescue dogs: Toby, my elderly cocker spaniel who has epilepsy and a thyroid disorder that requires daily medication; Darla, my Jack Russell mix who loves her tennis ball more than life itself; Georgia, my lab mix, who loves to carry her food bowl around and put the dirt she digs in it; and finally Goober dog. If I have my way, the Goober will die an old and ugly dog in his comfy doggie bed. He probably won't be trained but we'll still love him.

And my husband, who was trained long ago, will bear the brunt of caring for him. He's a good man.

Contact Ellen Priest at epriest@journalscene.com or 873-9424 ext. 211.