Doberman Came From High Kill Shelter

I was going down the second row of the New Arrivals area when I saw her for the first time. She was a young red Doberman whose ribs were starkly outlined and whose hip bones formed bony knobs at the end of her long knobby rope that was her spine. Her head lay on the cold concrete floor and she moved only her eyes to gaze up at me. A wave of sadness washed over me and I turned to go but then she made a sound that begged, without words, not to leave her.

The I-want-to-save-this-dog feeling washed over me. Please don't expect me to explain it further, it was a little like a love-at-first-sight.

All volunteers were told not to feed the dogs but before I started work I secretly filled my pockets with dry dog food. I looked around to see if anyone was watching, then feeling slightly guilty, I tossed a handful of dry dog food into her pen. Some of the chunks had fallen close enough and she ate those quickly. Then she rose shakily to her feet and walked to where the other food had fallen. I decided at that moment, although we already had 3 dogs, I was going to see if the Director of the Animal Shelter would let me take her. Some volunteers were allowed to "Foster" dogs and I wanted this one.

The shelter Director was less than pleased with my request. She asked why I would want to take a dog that was obviously ill ... but I pleaded and she finally told me she would let me take the dog for a trial. My wonderful husband has always been supportive and when I told him I was bringing home a female "Dobie" he said, then we will have to name her "Gillis". The name stuck.

Our first stop, on our way home, was at our veterinarian. He checked her over, said she appeared to be healthy but malnourished. He gave her shots and I took her home.

She and I communicated better than I do with most people. Her mood always seemed to correspond with mine - if I was sad, she would lie by me quietly: if I was happy, she was ready to play.

At the time I worked from home typing medical reports. When she thought I had been working long enough, she would come in and sit by my side, raising her nose in the air slightly and go "Woof", when I looked at her she would stare intently into my eyes. If I felt I had to continue and ignored her, the nose would go a little higher and the woof would be just slightly louder and she would again stare intently until I finally gave up, quit what I was doing and played with her.

She became my baby, my Gilly Girl. When our grown daughter was involved in a near fatal car accident, I spent days in the hospital with her and returned home only for a change of clothes and sometimes a good night's sleep, I have never been closer to a breaking point than at that time, but Gilly always rescued me and helped me return to the hospital with a new resolve.

She was so easy for me to love, but she was not an easy-keeper. Doberman dogs are often aggressive by nature and she was very jealous of me and my attention to the other dogs. One dog, Black Princess, was part Chow. She and Gillis got into several fights. Our vet told us if we could not break it up and let them establish who was the alpha dog, the fights would stop but we were always afraid they would be seriously injured. Blackie had been with us before Gillis came so it was her home but, after awhile, it became apparent that something had to be done. It was not fair, but I couldn't give Gillis up so our daughter took Blackie into her home.

I have so many great memories of Gilly and perhaps I will be sharing these in future lenses.

My Rescued Dog Who Rescued Me by Carol Thomas is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 United States License.