A LEGACY PAWS RESCUE STORY
Auggie's Story
One hour. That's how much time Oattie had left when I got the call.
His shelter name was Oatmeal. I called him Oattie.
One Hour Left
His shelter name was Oatmeal. I called him Oattie.
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The warnings came before I even had him in my arms: don't reach toward him, don't reach over him, don't put anything around his neck, don't touch his ears. I understood the ears the second I saw them, crusted in blood from fly bites that had gone untreated for who knows how long. His teeth were ground flat. His underbody was scarred and bloody. Someone had kept him on a thick chain on concrete, and barking was the only job he'd ever been given. He was scared of people. Scared of dogs. Heartworm positive. Never neutered.
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One hour from being put down.
The Jeep
I'd converted the whole back of my Jeep into one big memory foam dog bed, with a harness system safe enough to drive with the doors off. I backed it up slow, turned my back to him, and got ready to wait for hours.
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He came right up to me. Then the second I looked at him, he backed away.
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That was the first thing Oattie taught me: pretending he wasn't there was the way to build his trust.
Kyra Showed Him the Way
My Rottweiler Kyra, my mentor dog, figured him out faster than I did. He learned right away that she was his safety. She's the one who showed him the yard first, though all he wanted to do was hide under the deck. Then she showed him the house. Then, eventually, she showed him me.
The Day He Let Me
Touch Him
He followed her from the kitchen to the living room while I sat quiet on the couch with calming music playing, not looking at him, not reaching for him. Kyra got comfortable, let me pet her, sat, then laid down right next to me.
And that was when Oattie came up on his own and let me touch him.
I still didn't look him in the eye. I kept my face down, tried to make myself small, but calm. Steady.
Auggie and Eddie
He went home with a family who renamed him Auggie, and months later, that same family came back and adopted his best friend from the rescue, Eddie, so the two of them could be brothers under one roof.
Still Auggie
Auggie never stopped preferring to be outside. To this day, he'll only come in through the front door if someone leads him in on a leash. When I babysat him after he was adopted, he still managed to talk me into sleeping on the floor next to him, same as he had when he was my foster. Another time I visited and said my goodbyes, I pulled out of the driveway and looked in my mirror to see him running full speed down the road after my Jeep.
He trusts people now. He has a family, a brother, a whole life that was one hour away from never happening. But he still feels safest when he can disappear a little.
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That never fully left him, and I don't think it's supposed to.