Hi. My name is Honey and I was picked up as a stray by the Brooklyn ACC in July 2012.
At 13 years old, I found myself on the “E” list with a series of ailments a mile long, including a life threatening condition pyometra, mastitis, entropian, a tooth root abscess, severe ear infections, dermatitis and hair loss, edema in my rear legs and feet… The list just went on and on and on.
I couldn’t walk and could barely muster enough energy to lift my head.
Most people assumed that I was simply dumped on the streets and discarded like trash because of my health. There was no way that I wandered off as a stray in that condition and everyone said I was “obese” and most strays have been on the skinny side.
I wouldn’t eat, I was too depressed, and it seemed as though I had given up the fight. Some thought that it would have been best to end my suffering and allow the shelter to take my life. However a group of people, who had never even met each other, saw my post from Urgent Part 2 – Urgent Death Row Dogs on Facebook and they banded together and pledged their time, their funds, and their love to help me spend my remaining days with dignity.
They found a rescue to pull me from the shelter, an organization to transport me, and an adoptive home to provide hospice. My preliminary medical bills were to be covered by donations and ChipIns, although everyone knew that it was going to be quite an effort to even get me comfortable and simply pain free for my final days.
After I arrived at my new home, I laid down in my soft, warm, comfortable new bed and slept with a sigh of relief. Yet, the next 48 hours seemed a bit grim. I still couldn’t get up to use the bathroom, I wouldn’t eat, and without sounding harsh… everyone said that I simply looked pathetic…
My new family entered into the situation knowing it was to be an exercise in compassion, an attempt to provide a loving home to a dying pet so that I would know love and peace before my time was up. My mom and dad prepared themselves and the children, ages 16 and 7, for what would eventually happen to poor little old me.
But what happened next… no one truly expected.
In just two short months, with a healthy dose of antibiotics and a lot of love, I made an amazing recovery!
After my first vet visit, just two days after I arrived at her new home, I lifted my head up in the car on the way home to peer out the window with interest.
My new family noticed that there was now a sign of interest in place of what used to be depression. Within a few days of being on antibiotics, I began to walk on my own. Everyone was stunned!
Within a week my entropian cleared up, which meant I now looked out at the world with big, bright eyes. My family began giving me baths to help my skin and coat and within a month my hair started to grow back. I now had a shiny, black, beautiful coat and my white fur was truly white, no longer yellowed and dingy.
Overall, I looked and felt like a completely different dog. Not only was I walking, but I was now jumping up on the couch to snuggle and playing tug of war — with the same strength as the family’s two Great Danes I might add! I had a youthful spunk at times and while out on a walk of the neighborhood I would often wag my tail and bite at my leash, just like a puppy.
I still loved to nap but it was always by my new mom’s side either on the couch or on my cozy bed positioned next to my mom’s desk while she worked — never leaving her side. I even allowed the cats to share my bed and I snuggled with them too!
I managed to beat all of my ailments and without surgery, which unfortunately wasn’t an option because my red blood cell count was too low. Within two months I was issued a clean bill of health by the vet — who was also amazed that I was even the same dog that had originally come into their office in such a horrendous condition. It truly seemed a miracle.
But, what about providing hospice? What about preparing to take care of a dog for only a short time since the end seemed so near? This wasn’t quite what my new family had anticipated. Well that’s the best part of this story.
Now, I’ve become part of the family and I’m here to stay. I am now the new best friend and favorite companion of the 7-year-old little boy who loves me dearly and is very glad that no one, not even I, decided to give up the fight.
Oh, and did I mention that I’m a Pit Bull? To the little boy, it matters not that I’m a ‘pit bull’ or any particular breed of dog, what only matters is that I’m here to be by his side. ♥