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Just a story about a rescued dog.

Standard poodles have been a part of my life for over 30 years. Up until Chewie, they had always been of show quality since I'm a major poodle snob.

When I lose Monet at the age of 14, I found I couldn't live without a standard poodle in my life but decided at my age, show quality wasn't as much of a factor, I just needed a standard poodle. So I started looking for one through rescues. Sometimes I think rescues go out of their way to make it impossible to adopt one of their dogs. Here I am, someone with years of experience, only keep housepets, able to do my own grooming, give the dogs tons of exercise and training, and have kept dogs long past their normal lifespan, but I was turned down again and again for the stupidest of reasons. One because I live on a busy state route, another because my other dog was a chow cross, another because both members of the house work.

During one of my sleepless nights, I decided to torture myself again and looked on petfinder. There was a new listing at a pound over 2 hours from me. All it said was young male standard poodle.

By the time I was able to get a hold of someone at the pound, and then had to wait for another person to call me back, and then the drive, I didn't get there until after 4pm. What I found was one messed up standard poodle. Not only could I tell he was very sick to the point of being almost dead, but I've been around too many dogs not to know an abused and neglected one when I see it and worse of all to my poodle snobbinest, a parti color. Let me state, it wasn't the pounds fault, he was an owner turn in just the day before.

I actually almost made it out the door. But the heart will make you do what your mind tells you not to and the next thing I knew, I was heading back home with him in the back of my car. And that trip home was a nightmare. We weren't even at the end of the road before he started with the foulest smelling diarrea. Over two hours of him crying and exploding from the back end. I got home too late to go to the vet. I was so sure he was going to die on me that night, I stayed up with him but couldn't give him comfort, he was so afaid of human. I was sure he had parvo, anyone who has ever smelled parvo will know what I mean, that's how it smelled and it was explossive all night. And that made it worse since he couldn't help it, but every time he did it, he ran off screaming thinking I was going to beat him for it.

Of course I had him to the vet the next day. Found out he weighed less than 40 pounds, 20 pounds under what he should have weighed. The vet also thought parvo, but ends up he was so over infested with whipworm that he was bleeding so bad inside that the blood in his stool made it smell like parvo.

That was the easy part to take care of. The mental part was a nightmare, he was afraid to take a step. He came to me with a limp. The vet couldn't find any thing wrong with his hips or knees, but did find a huge bruise under his hair. The limp left when the bruised healed, we figure he had been hit pretty hard to leave that kind of mark. So I had to spend a lot of time letting him know that he would never have to go through that again and it wasn't easy. Little things like trying to sweep the floor with a broom made him scream, he was so scared of the broom. One day I was playing fetch with him, the ball landed on the couch and he went after it, he realised he was on the furniture and he was off screaming and tried to get under a table, which made the table tumble and that sent him off screaming and he let loose of his bowels, which made him scream more.

Anyhow, I put alot of work and even more tears into him. He's finally realised that he is allowed to be a dog. He's allowed on the furniture, brooms do not hit and he's a part of a family that loves him. There are still problems, the biggest being that he was robbed of his puppyhood so is backward in that area, but that will also work it's way out with time and love.

This is him when I first got him. I hate to see this pic, you can see the fear in his eyes.



This is him now, 30 pounds heavier and a healthy, happy go lucky goofball.







 

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You are one very special person. I'm so glad Chewie belongs to you. His story is heartbreaking. I'm just delighted it has a happy ending!
 

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It makes me absolutely SICK to see that fear in a puppy's eyes. You just know in your gut that something horrible happened to them! Especially with a limp from a bruise! Anyway so happy to see the last pics! GOOD for YOU and GREAT for CHEWIE!!!!
 
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