Chapter 4 - The End of the Beginning or An Apple a Day

Tough start to the season...

...but things are looking up at the All Star break. Lookout Yanks!

One of the great things about the major league baseball season is that it's 162 games long. Rivals climb and descend the standings throughout what is far and away the largest number of games played in any single season of any sport (that I am aware of). This gives baseball fans perspective; we may lose a couple here and there, but the season is long enough to dig out of a pretty deep hole. The Sox started this season off abysmally, and now look at us as we approach the break: 15 games over .500 and only two back from the Yanks.

At the start of the baseball season, Wakefield was doing about as well as Boston...maybe even as bad as the Orioles. On the day I picked him up, I was sure the best I could do for him was to let him die with a full belly on a soft bed with a roof over his head. I was ready to call his passing a victory, if it would occur with the basic comforts he had been denied his entire life. Where do we stand now? Again, about as well as the red hot Sox are doing. I'm happy to say that Wakefield is completely healed of the mange. He's recovered from getting fixed, and now the only issue he's really dealing with is a master that won't let him chew up whatever the hell he wants. Success.

I had a ton of help along the way, and I would be remiss without again thanking the good folks at Till Newell Animal Hospital in Meridian for helping Wakefield along. If you live in Meridian, take your pets to this Vet...you won't find better care anywhere. Also, I've got to thank my wife Lisa, who encouraged me that first afternoon to pick up the disgusting beast when I was on the fence about even touching him. And finally thanks for everyone who read and shared his story along the way. It was my goal in writing this to encourage just one person to take a more compassionate stance towards animals and to make better decisions when choosing and raising a dog. In reading and sharing this story you have helped me accomplish that aim, so thanks again.

So what's next for Wakefield? I'm not quite sure to be honest. Now that he is all healed up, we're considering finding him a good home since we already have two other dogs. There are a couple problems with that prospect though... First off, it's tough to find a good home for a pit bull. They require a fair amount of exercise, and really need a lot of good socialization and training to be good pets (especially for families). Also, a lot of people would love to have a pit bull...so they could chain it in their front yard where it would spend most of it's life treading the same 15 foot diameter circle without the companionship dogs need to stay sane and keep them from becoming aggressive. Bad owners make bad dogs, and I'm not willing to give Wakefield away to anyone who doesn't have the purest of intentions and the time and ability to raise him properly. Secondly, I'm pretty attached to him after what he's been through; I would seriously miss him if he found some new digs. So with the above being the case, if you or someone you know is looking for a sweet, smart, loyal pooch, and you have the means and the time to raise him right, please get in touch with me. If this is causing anyone concern regarding Wakefield's future, don't worry. If we find him another home where he'll be as happy as he is with me, I'll give him up. If not, he'll live out his doggy days with me and I'll probably be better for it.

The end.


Soapbox

Pain is a pretty universal experience. I'm not sure at what point down the food chain sentient beings stop feeling pain, but what I know for certain is that cats, dogs, pigs, cows, chickens, etc. all feel pain. They may not be able to contextualize pain like we can, but you can be damn sure that a dog cowers before a beating just like a human flinches before being struck for the same reason: the desire to minimize and avoid pain. The cruelty towards animals we allow in our civilized society is unacceptable, and it exists because we allow it to exist. We get upset when we see Michael Vick out of prison and making mega-bucks again, but at the same time we're eating a Tyson chicken breast or a McDonald's cheeseburger that was taken from the most abused animals that exist anywhere. We're horrified when we hear stories of horses or shelter animals starved nearly to death through negligence, but we find ourselves too busy to think of the little decisions we make every day that allow suffering to exist. I read a book a few years ago called 'The Omnivore's Dilemma' that really changed the way I thought about food specifically but animals and their welfare in a more general sense. If you're not a big reader (and the book can be boring in places), then check out the ASPCA or any of a thousand non-fringe animal welfare groups and see what little decisions you can make every day to help end suffering. Adopt, donate, volunteer, shop and eat responsibly...the number of things you can do to help those that can't help themselves is limitless.

The question is not, "Can they reason?" nor, "Can they talk?" but rather, "Can they suffer?" ~Jeremy Bentham

Think occasionally of the suffering of which you spare yourself the sight. ~Albert Schweitzer

Chapter 3 - The Watched Pot Boils or Goodbye Mendoza Line

Wakefield keeping a stiff upper lip while mourning the loss of Hall of Fame Announcer Ernie Harwell. Rest in peace...

The Watched Pot Boils or Goodbye Mendoza Line

It’s hard to believe a few short weeks ago Wakefield’s future was really up in the air. It almost seems like I’m writing about two different dogs when I compare the mangy pooch of late March to the healthier, happy pup snoozing in a sunbeam by my feet today. The mange is down, but not quite out at the moment. He is still losing a little hair on his haunches, but that fact pales in comparison to the progress he’s otherwise made. Three weeks ago, I noticed the smallest layer of fuzz growing on his feet. Now, his face, neck, legs and belly are covered in fur, and the scars and scabs that he was covered in are largely a memory. The fur on his nose conceals the rough scar tissue from his damaged face, and from a distance of just a few feet he looks like a normal, ornery puppy. His exposed hips and ribs are hidden under a layer of muscle and fat, and the collar that used to slip off his scrawny neck barely fits him these days.

His recovery is almost complete. In fact, next week is his 6th and final treatment for the mange. The vet says he’s so healthy that we can even get him fixed. I don’t know if these treatments are always this successful, or if the pit bull breed’s tenacious and determined nature made this guy a quick healer. What I do know is that in less than two months, with a ton of food, care, and excellent treatment from the good folks at Till-Newell Animal Hospital, a dying, miserable dog is knocking on recovery’s door. Oh yeah, it took a ton of cleaning supplies too…

When we got back from the vet on the first day, Wakefield was in lousy shape (as you’ve heard and seen from the pictures). I took him to the laundry room and set him down on his bed where he promptly fell asleep. As he rested, I gave him a thorough once over to get a good look at what I was dealing with. The iodine bath he received at the vet got all the ticks to let go, but that wasn’t to say they still weren’t hanging out. Over the next hour or so, I managed to wrangle about 10 of the little nasties off his back, neck and legs. I didn’t know how to kill a tick once you’ve got it off (they seem generally impervious to normal squishing), so I took them to task with a rubber mallet. It was gross, but in the interest of full disclosure, a little satisfying. For anyone who might run into this problem in the future, you heard it here first: a little tissue paper and a rubber mallet will definitely do the trick once you’ve got the tick off the host. Splat!

It soon became clear that the ticks were only part of the problem. Over the following days, the huge cuts on his face started to heal. As they did though, they must have been itchy, because he was pawing at his nose constantly. When I left him alone for short periods of time, I could track his movement by following the trail of goo his healing snout left behind. He would do the ‘dog-shake’ from time to time as well, which would literally send goop and skin flying everywhere. His tail started wagging by the end of that first week, which of course was a good thing. His skin was in such bad shape though, that every time his tail would hit something it would crack and bleed, marring the walls with red streaks. His swollen eyes would totally coat with this horrible green slime, and to top it all off he wasn’t potty trained. Did I mention he stunk to high hell?

Why did I feel the need to include this gross portion of the story? First off, I think it’s kind of amusing in spite of the grossness. Secondly, I want to encourage people to not be afraid to lend a hand when it comes to dogs who might be sick. I know that dogs can have all kinds of ailments, and some of them manifest and resolve themselves in some seriously disgusting ways. Pound for pound, I can’t imagine a much grosser situation that what Wakefield brought to the table. That being the case though, it really wasn’t that big of a deal. It did cost me some time and energy to give the portions of the house he traversed a thorough cleaning. It did cost me a little coin to buy some extra cleaning supplies. I also had to get over my natural aversion to any fluid that doesn’t come out of a sink, shower, bottle or keg. In the end though, the payoff was huge. The investment of a little time, energy, and money rewarded me with a nearly healthy pooch that seems to like nothing better than falling asleep at my feet while I watch Baseball Tonight. Which leads me to…

Soapbox:

Okay, so you feel compelled to help but you don’t know about committing to a 13 year relationship with the shedding, drooling, pooping, sweet but destructive force of nature that is a dog. What to do then? First off, you can donate time through fostering. Animal shelters and rescue organizations, especially in the southern US, are consistently overwhelmed with animals and underwhelmed with staff and resources. If you are looking to help on the shorter term, many shelters and rescue groups need foster homes for animals. Like full on adoption, fostering allows the shelter to take in more animals. This means more ‘Wakefields’ are taken off the streets and given the opportunity to find good homes instead of being euthanized or simply dying in the wild of disease or starvation. You can adopt a younger dog while the organization locates it a home, or you can really step up and foster an otherwise unadoptable dog (too sick, too old, Yankees fan, etc…) and let a creature live out it’s remaining days in the quiet and comfort of a human home with a belly full of food and a roof over it’s head. Yes, I said it. Even a dog brought up as a Yankees fan deserves to sleep out of the rain and cold.

Still too much responsibility? Then just call your local shelter or rescue group and see what they need! Often shelters will take any help people can give; everything is normally welcome from walking dogs and cleaning cages to donating money or other resources. I really believe we owe it to the animals we’ve domesticated to see to it that they are treated humanely and with dignity. Please lend a hand.

Next time on "A Second Chance for Wakefield"

-A full recovery? (perhaps...)

-The comeback kids (the Sox take 4 from the Angels after losing 3 to the Orioles)

-Brief discussion on "The Short but Happy Life of Francis Macomber"

Chapter 2 - What's in a Name or Knuckleballers Do it With Class

Wakefield getting fat and hogging the sports page. "3-4 after the first week!? C'mon Sox!"

I’m no doctor, but…

…I know progress when I see it. Wakefield and I are starting our third week together, and I’m happy to say the little guy continues to show signs of improvement. After two weeks of non-stop eating and sleeping, a puppy is finally starting to emerge. We’ve recently had our first bouts of tennis ball romping, and he fusses loudly at me with a wagging tail when I have the audacity to make myself dinner without sharing. It appears that the doctor’s initial guess of ‘pit bull mix’ was a good one: Wakefield is starting to fill out in the shoulder and chest area, and his ribs and hip bones are slowly retreating under the pounds he’s packing on. He has lost quite a bit more hair though, so most of that hair you could see on his head, neck, and shoulders in his early picture is gone. It’s kind of funny actually…he looks a lot like a small, friendly version of the giant dog that chased Rick Moranis in the first Ghostbusters (“Nice doggy…cute little pooch…maybe I got a Milk-Bone…”). Unfortunately, he hasn’t taken Boston’s first week performance very well, but neither have I. At least we can commiserate together.

And of course, thanks to everyone who has helped raise awareness of the sad state of strays in this country by reading, reposting, or commenting on Wakefield’s story up to this point. Feel free to keep up with him on my facebook page or at www.secondchanceforwakefield.blogspot.com.

What’s in a Name or Knuckleballers Do it With Class

After I left Wakefield at the vet that first day, I wasn’t sure if I would name him at all. I assumed the folks at Till Newel Animal Hospital would have bad news about the poor creature’s condition, and naming a dog that was going be put down just seemed like too sad a venture. To my great (and happy) surprise though, I was informed the dog had a shot if we gave him doxycycline (twice a day), vertimec (once a day), and took him in for a weekly mitaban dip for the next 6 weeks.

Now I’m not 100% sure what all the meds do, and to be honest I had to look them up just to make sure I spelled them correctly (and they might still be spelled wrong). What I do know is that any medical regimen for an animal in his condition wasn’t going to be easy, and that his recovery in general was going to be arduous. This meant I was now given the task of picking out a name that would fit a dog in that situation.

Meet Tim Wakefield: He’s a knuckleball pitcher for the Sox who is 18 wins away from becoming their winningest pitcher of all time and is (if you ask any Boston fan) a shoe in for the Hall of Fame. His career numbers aren’t staggering…his lifetime win-loss percentage is .538 with an ERA of 4.33. He doesn’t have a scorching fastball or a change-up that makes hitters look like amateurs. ‘Then what makes him so great’ you ask? He’s resilient. He’s tough. The guy has been relevant and dependable for 18 seasons without steroids or HGH. Also, in my humble opinion, he’s the reason above all others the Sox were able to come back from a three game deficit and win the 2004 ALCS and eventually take their first World Series title in almost a century. There were many ‘heroic’ outings that would follow over the next 4 games against the rightfully vilified Yankees, but his act stands alone in my mind. Curse of the Bambino? Over. Gone. Finished. All because Tim Wakefield gave up his game 4 start in order to relieve the team’s ailing bullpen in game 3. God I love that story…

Wakefield (the dog) has proven himself to be as resilient as his namesake. His improvement can be measured in the added inches around his chest and the tail that never stops wagging. I promised the story of our first weeks together in this chapter, but I’ll save it for next week in the interest of keeping this round from going on forever and getting dull. That many ticks and that much ooze, hair, and crud definitely warrant their own chapter anyway.

Soapbox:

Thousands of dogs are euthanized every year in this country for lack of home and care. Thousands more of these domesticated but neglected animals suffer the crueler fate of dying of starvation. Want to help one of the many Wakefields out there? Want to add a loving and loyal member to your family without being saddled by the costs of unlimited text-messaging plans or college tuition? You can do both by going down to your local shelter and picking up a homeless animal. It’s way cheaper than buying a purebred, and your mutt will be less likely to develop the genetically inherited problems purebred animals deal with later in life. Best of all, by saving that animal, you’ll be freeing up a spot in the crowded shelters for another stray that needs a roof over its head and a chance for adoption. Already got a pet? Consider getting another one… I can say from experience that raising two dogs is easier than raising one (they seriously entertain each other). Google your local Humane Society or animal shelter for more info on how you can help out one of the many animals that can’t help themselves. If you live in the south and want to lend a hand, check out East Mississippi Animal Rescue (www.eastmsanimalrescue.com). It’s an organization full of good people doing good things, and a whole cast of critters that could use a hand.

P.S. Shelter dogs can be easily trained to sit, fetch, roll over, and wash cars. With a little more training, they can do married (filing jointly) taxes as well as simple copy-editing. Don’t believe me? Try adopting one and find out for yourself.

Next time on “A Second Chance for Wakefield”:

-Our first two weeks (seriously this time)
-Born to Run...the greatest album of all time, or just the greatest Springsteen album of all time?
-Why Charles Frasier’s ’13 Moons’ is just as great as his first novel, ‘Cold Mountain’

Chapter 1 - Ticks are Tough, but the Gag Reflex is Tougher

Wakefield is PSYCHED about Boston's opening day win over the Yanks, but is seriously concerned about Josh Beckett's performance in the first 5 innings..,

Thanks!

Hello everyone. Thanks to all the folks that read, commented, or reposted the ‘intro’ to Wakefield’s story. We’re currently on day one of ‘crate’ training, and as I write this he’s downstairs complaining loudly about the ill treatment.

Wakefield is fairing pretty well after a week spent sleeping (90% of the time), eating (5% of the time), going to the bathroom (3% of the time), and pulling for the Sox in that Opening Night classic (2% of the time). The ugly, mangy dog that was days away from dying of starvation is now an ugly, mangy dog that follows me around with a wagging tail, begging for Milk Bones. He’s still losing his hair to the mange, but his battered and beaten face is healing pretty well. The previously dull eyes that were nearly swollen-shut are now large and full of life.

Once again, the intent of this story is to increase awareness of the serious problems of animal neglect and cruelty we have in this country. If you like what you read and want to help spread the word, please repost this story or tell a friend to check it out (my 'notes' section is open to everyone). For non facebook types, it can also be found at www.secondchanceforwakefield.blogspot.com. Also, feel free to drop me a line for comments/questions/concerns.
Now, as promised, the beginning of our story:

We are All God’s Creatures or Ticks are Tough, but the Gag Reflex is Tougher

Okay, I started this one off with the good news about Wakefield’s improvements because the story of how i found him is pretty sad. So, stick with me and remember that he’s in a lot better shape today than he was a week ago. Cool? Cool…

I came across the bag of bones on my way home from Naval Air Station Meridian, where Uncle Sam currently has me gainfully employed. During the drive, as I was digging ‘Left and Right in the Dark’ by Julian Casablancas, I noticed a brown shape among some trash along the side of the road. Because the shape was so slight, I first assumed it was a buzzard. As I got closer though, I realized it was a dog; a dog that was all hips and ribs. I went to the store and grabbed a bag of dog food, hoping if nothing else I could get the poor thing a decent meal. Fortunately he was still at the all-you-can-eat trash buffet when I returned. I hopped out of the car, and slowly approached him with the food. It was truly a wretched sight: the dog’s face was covered with lines of broken skin and his eyes were nearly swollen shut. He was largely hairless, covered in open sores, and had a couple marble sized ticks hanging on for the ride and free meal.

He ate there for a while as I watched. Around his neck was a mud covered collar, and he gave me a couple tail wags while he ate, both of which I took as signs that he might not be aggressive. After some time (all of which I was seriously wondering if I could even pick him up without worrying about vermin myself) he got up, slowly dragged himself under a barbed wire fence that paralleled the road, and parked himself just out of arm's reach. After some conferring with my wife Lisa, and some serious time spent thinking of the consequences of jumping a barbed wire fence in my flight suit, I decided to use some bungee cord as a leash and hop the fence to get him. The process took some time: I had to follow the fence back into the woods a ways to find a not-so-precarious place to get through, and once I got to him he wasn’t really all that receptive of going anywhere with me. The thought of putting the tick covered dog in the back of my car wasn’t especially pleasing either, so I opted to use a few sticks to pull off the especially large/gross ones. Post tick removal and much cajoling/dragging/pushing/pulling/prodding/pleading, I got him under the fence and in the back of my car.

The employees at Till-Newell Animal Hospital were (and are) excellent. I dropped the pup off and went to the bathroom to wash every possible exposed piece of skin while they gave the dog soon to be known as Wakefield the initial once-over. From his stay at the vet that afternoon, I learned about how he had the red mange (bummer), he would be visiting the vet once a week for 6 weeks (cha-ching) and that his recovery was far from guaranteed (serious bummer). The doc said “Yep, he’s going to take some work, but we’re not going to give up on this dog yet.” Now here we are a week later: Wakefield is slowly recovering, and I’m rapidly becoming a pro at cleaning up after a very sick dog.

Soapbox

Got a dog? Get it spayed. Got a cat? Get it spayed. Got a crazy exotic pet? Donate it to a zoo, get a dog, and then get the dog spayed. Owning an animal is a serious responsibility, and you owe it to the pet and to your community to make sure your animal won’t be contributing to the problem of stray/homeless animals when (not if) it gets loose one day. Oh yeah, and if you live in Mississippi or Arkansas and just let your dog run around free 24/7, this goes doubly for you. Seriously.

Next time on ‘A Second Chance for Wakefield’
-What's in a name? (His namesake's heroic 2004 ALCS game 3 performance)
-Our first week together (I think we'll get all the bodily fluids covered)
-Is Kurt Vonnegut the greatest satirical author of all time? (Wakefield thinks so...)

Intro or The Ugliest Damn Dog I've Ever Seen

Wakefield chilling on the porch, wondering why the MLB off-season is so long

Disclaimer

This is a true and ongoing story about 'Wakefield'. This particular story may very well have an ending that isn't happy, so read at your own risk. This poor guy is getting medical care and all the food and love he can handle, but his prognosis isn't great. This story could be over tomorrow, or could go on for a while. Cross your fingers for us...

Intro or The Ugliest Damn Dog I've Ever Seen

Meet Wakefield. He's a 6 month old male and by the vet's best estimation, a pit bull mix. He has the 'red mange' which has caused about 70% of his hair to fall out and is likely responsible for some of the sores you can see on his back, sides, and face. When I found him on the side of the road, he was riddled with ticks and covered with open wounds of various types that were largely mange related (but some appear to have been caused by a bad scrape with another animal or some barbed wire). He'd been on his own in the woods for most of his short life, and was literally as malnourished as any living, breathing thing could be.

That last paragraph was a downer, I know. Here's some good news though: He’s heartworm free, and the vet thinks he's got a chance (albeit slim) of pulling out if we can get the mange healed up. He has averaged 8-9 cups of food a day since day one (we're on day four now), and all the cuts on his face and back are closed and healing. He's gone from unable to move more than a couple feet on his own to following me around the living room and back porch with a full up wagging tail.

If anyone is interested in keeping up with Wakefield and I as we try to get him on the mend, please let me know and I'll keep writing. The intent of this story is really to raise awareness of the issues of animal neglect and cruelty in this country. That being the case, I'm opening the 'notes' section of my facebook page to everyone. So, please feel free to spread the word to any dog/animal fans, people you know who might like to listen to a sad but hopeful story, or anyone else who wants to laugh at what will certainly be an amateur attempt at a blog if it has the support to continue. If no one is interested, well, that's okay too. Wakefield is getting (a little) better, baseball season starts in a few days, and the Sox have a strong starting lineup. Things are looking up.

-David

Next week on 'A Second Chance for Wakefield':
-How we came to share the same roof (hint: trespassing...oooh exciting!)
-Tick removal for dummies (gross...seriously the grossest thing you can imagine)
-The definition of 'Quality' (just joking...I'm reading 'Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance' right now and decided to throw that in just to see if anyone was still actually reading this)