Saving Lexie
I had not planned to go to the Roanoke City pound (RCACP) on Friday. My girls were out of school, and we were planning to spend the day around our barn with the horses and dogs.
But then I received a message from a rescue friend of mine asking if I would be willing to sponsor a dog who was about to be euthanized at the pound. A last minute rescue had been arranged, but the dog needed a sponsor for vetting and boarding because no foster was currently available.
Lexie had already touched my heart a week or so before when I saw a picture of her on Facebook. The photo was taken in her kennel at the pound, and she was clearly terrified. I have seen many other dogs in that setting with the same look of fear, and I have no words for how heartbreaking it is to me.
The pound performed one of their “evaluations” and deemed Lexie dog aggressive. This is a death sentence in a pound setting. For an American Staffordshire Terrier, it goes without saying. But I long ago lost faith in the pound system’s ability to assess dogs. The environment is one not even remotely conducive to getting an accurate picture of a terrified dog’s personality. And so for me, that meant nothing.
At that time, I offered to sponsor her if a dog rescue would come forward. A week or so passed, and no one did until the very last minute. In fact, Lexie was being taken to the euthanasia room when my rescue friend called the pound to say she had a rescue.
I offered to go over and pick Lexie up and take her to the vet clinic where she would be boarding until space for her became available with the rescue group. Two of my daughters went with me, and we drove to the pound. I had never been to this particular one. Driving up to it, you are immediately aware that it looks like a maximum security prison, not a place where anyone would want to go to adopt a dog or cat.
We went inside the pound building to wait while my rescue friend made the arrangements to get Lexie out. Only her name there wasn’t Lexie. She had a number and was referred to by that. CH132, I believe. It reminded me of the time I stood in the Dachau concentration camp in Germany and listened to the explanation of how prisoners were stripped of their clothing and given uniforms with numbers on them. That was their new identity. This made it easier for the guards not to see them as human beings, individuals. Such is the role of the number at the pound. I felt sick standing in that place in Germany. And I felt sick standing in the waiting area of this facility.
When Lexie came out, she greeted us with a smile and a wagging tail. I am sure this is exactly how she greeted the person who came to get her earlier to take her to the euthanasia room. How would she have any idea what they were about to do?
I had brought her a can of food and some treats, and she scarfed the food down, obviously hungry. While we were outside, we walked by two dogs, and she paid no attention to them. So much for the dog aggressive label.
She wasn’t so sure about getting in the car, but then who could blame her? The last time she’d ridden in one, she’d been dumped at the pound.
So we lured her in with cookies and made her a nice spot in between my daughters. Lexie rode most of the way with her head resting on one of them.
It felt really nice to see her sleep peacefully and know that she was safe.
Lexie’s journey to a new family has just begun. But she is such a sweet girl, and I have faith that there are good things ahead for her.
One thing I know without question is that it would have been a complete tragedy for her life to be taken that morning. Thank you to each and every one of her guardian angels for believing in her.
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