Her name was Darcy..

(touching story)

I first heard about Darcy at a meeting of our local rescue organization.
One of the volunteers was talking about a German Shepherd who kept escaping from her home, and who was subsequently picked up and taken to the local pound.

Her owners would always appear, pay the fine, and take her home again.

What made this cycle so horrendous was that every time the dog escaped, she bore new signs of abuse. She'd been "accidentally" hit with a baseball bat which had caused a detached retina, rendering her blind in her left eye. Moreover, a pot of boiling water had been "accidentally" spilled on her.

The woman seated next to me turned out to be a cop.

"I know that family," she said, shaking her head in disgust, "The kids are always in trouble."

"You know, " I murmured, "If you could somehow get that Shepherd to me, rather than the pound, I can make her disappear."
A week later, I got a whispered phone call that said, "I've got her."
Hearing about Darcy did little to prepare me for actually seeing her.
She was a big Shepherd, though it was hard to judge her actual height since she came into the house crawling submissively on her belly. Most of her back was without hair, blistered with burns. Since she had no vision in her left eye she had to turn her head far to the left to see.

My kids arrived home from school and stood inside the door, rendered speechless by the sheer horror of what had been done to this dog. The first one to move was my foster son, Bill -- the quintessential tough guy.
He got on his knees beside Darcy and put his arms around her. With tears in his eyes he looked up at me and asked, "Mom? Where do these people live?"

"I don't know, and wouldn't tell you if I did," was my answer.
"I just want to go over there..." he said earnestly, "with a baseball bat and a pot of boiling water." The other boys vigorously agreed.
I pointed out that all of them going to jail would not help the dog.
We'd already taken the most important step by taking her in. Now we had to help her heal -- physically and emotionally.

We showered Darcy with good food, love and attention and praised her smallest victories.

Soon she stopped cowering to the floor every time a sudden movement was made.

My vet thought it was unlikely her hair would ever grow again on her back.

The burns had been too severe. Eventually,though, the area healed to smooth bald skin.

Darcy took to obedience training like the proverbial duck to water.
Like so many abused dogs, she reveled in the process of learning things and doing them repeatedly for praise. She completed Novice classes and was halfway through Open training when we set about trying to find her a permanent home. Much as we loved her, I wanted her to have more than sharing her life with eight other dogs. I wanted her to be the only dog,with kind people who would give her their undivided attention. We began by contacting friends from German Shepherd clubs.

Three months went by before we got a call from Mr. Smith. He was very wealthy, had recently lost his old Pointer, and was looking for a dog to adopt. We warned him about her loss of vision and the hairless area on her back. He didn't care. He wanted a friend, not a model. His estate was beautiful -- a lovely big house, and pastures for his horses -- it seemed too good to be true.

Mr. and Mrs. Smith fell in love with Darcy. Before handing over the leash, I told them, "I want this dog to have a family who spoils her rotten. In her one year on this earth she's been through total hell. The rest of her life should be as close to heaven as possible."
We knew we'd made the right choice when we heard the following story from their vet.

When the Smiths brought Darcy in to be spayed, Mr. Smith stayed beside her until she was under the anesthetic. Then, Mrs. Smith arrived to be there when Darcy woke up. They didn't want Darcy to think for one moment that she'd been abandoned.

Two years went by before we got a call from Mr. Smith.
"She just swiped a piece of cake off my desk," he laughed, "and it occurred to me that I should call and tell you how much we love this dog."
He told us how she ran beside him every morning when he rode his horse and how she was an angel with the grandkids. He thanked us for bringing her into his life.

That was many years ago. Darcy died in her sleep last year at the age of thirteen.

It was a peaceful passing. She was ready to go. She'd already lived her happily ever after.

Author: Carole Dillane Krajeski

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It's good to have money and the things that money can buy,
but it's good, too, to check once in a while and make sure
that you haven't lost things that money can't buy.

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