My friend and animal lover William Huggins wrote a short blog about his rescue dog CJ. I hope you enjoy the story!
RAISING CJ
For nearly 20 years I’ve worked with rescues. I can tell you from experience nothing will love you more than a rescue pet, especially dogs. They just seem to understand what you did for them. Dogs also as much individuals as people or any other intelligent nonhuman animal, and because of that individuality they all bring something different to your life.
Some of them also bring unique challenges.
In early 2017, still grieving the death of the best dog I ever had, I started looking around for a new pup. In Vegas you can legally keep three dogs. My family made the commitment always to maintain three rescues. In my life outside work I’m a long distance hiker and prefer dogs that can cover long distances.
The Internet has many wonderful values, including easy access for linking rescue organizations to individuals like myself who want specific types of dogs. After a few days of searching I found myself in a Vegas city park meeting a female red heeler. Her foster family lived in an apartment with no outdoor access and kept her in the bathroom most of the time. They truly meant well but were not in a position to meet the heeler’s needs: space, exercise, bonding time.
The heeler had been removed from an abusive situation. Later, when she learned to trust me, I saw the scars on her face and chin. Standing in that park that first day, she wouldn’t even look at me, flinching when I approached. Her tail stayed tucked and she visibly shook. The worst scars are the ones we can’t see.
I knew from the first day that this dog would take a lot of work.
But I took her anyway. Why? I can’t say for sure. As a husband and a father, my life contains enough challenges and complexities. Our first stop was the vet, bringing her shots up to date. On the drive she hid on the floor of the passenger side of my car, unmoving, not even looking at me. At the vet’s she was furtive and flinching. But we got through the checkup and safely went home.
Heelers can be tough to manage. They typically bond to one person. The high-energy breed requires too much work for many. I know someone whose heelers could climb trees. I started her immediately with a walk, to burn off some energy and anxiety, then led her to the backyard to meet our other two dogs. The first meeting went pretty well, she was submissive and docile. Over the following month our Australian shepherd, Snyder, went a few rounds with her while they established their relationship.
I named her CJ, after my favorite science fiction writer. For the first three days I fed her food laced with probiotics because with rescues you never know what they’ve eaten. Their GI tract is often squirrelly and the stress levels on CJ were off the charts. The first night she slept beside me, tight against my back, and for a few nights after that, until I eased her into our dogs’ sleeping area. After a day or two she never liked being separated from me—and still doesn’t, to this day.
Getting through the first month was the toughest part of the work. In the car she wailed like a banshee. On our first hike she came up to a pair of dark, volcanic boulders taller than her bordering the trail and refused to walk through them. I coaxed her and she started running away, scared of the large stones. I went and caught her and carried her through that space, talking softly to her the whole way. She grew used to the rigors of the trail. On our second hike she ran between my legs and tripped me, spilling me into a patch of screen. I rose with bloody hands and legs, cut up by the scattered rocks. She had a lot to learn.
On our third hike she tried to jump out the open driver’s side window of my car at 60 mph. After that I leashed her into her seat, where she would sit and wail.
Over the three years since I got her we’ve trained and hiked ourselves into a solid partnership. I got her a Thundershirt and CBD treats. But her anxiety continues. What wrong people do to dogs lingers in their psyches. The swoosh of an outgoing email sends her into frenzied laps around the living room. Like lots of dogs, fireworks lead her under the sheets on any bed close by. She’s madly jealous if I play games with my daughter. But we’ve all adjusted to her special needs.
When CJ and I sat on the summit of Mt. Charleston, we cemented the culmination of all the work we’ve done. High elevation hiking is one of many reasons I brought her into my life.
It took a lot of time and work to get her to this place. I get that many people don’t have the time or the patience or the resources to work with special needs dogs. But if you have the time, the patience, and the opportunity, the rewards are worth it—not just for the dog, but for you, as well. - William Huggins