The dogs above are both creatures who need homes. (For contact information, scroll to the end.)
But first, I need to tell you their collective story.
We’ll go back to the messy problems of the city and the county and the nation tomorrow.
For now, get comfortable. This may take a while.
MILAGRO
It all started during the very last days of December when my friend Elie-the-attorney noticed a very sick dog at a vacant lot near Men’s Central Jail.
FYI: Elie Miller is a former hot shot alternate public defender who quit her nice, secure county job to take a giant pay cut as the in-house lawyer for Homeboy Industries.
What you also need to know is that, in addition to being someone who feels called to defend clients that others would prefer to reject (like, say, homeboys and homegirls with criminal records), Elie is a hardcore rescuer of critters.
She happened on this particular dog– a black and tan shepherd and rottweiler mix—while she was walking from the Homeboy office on Bruno and Alameda to meet a client for a conference at Men’s Central Jail. In order to get there she took a shortcut through a humongous vacant lot littered by cracked cement slabs where factory buildings had once stood. Midway across the lot she spotted a male dog who was clearly in a state of high distress.
He was being nearly strangled by a leather collar that was strapped so tightly to his neck that it had cut a circle of sores into his skin that were badly infected. To make matters worse, the collar was constricting his throat in such a way that it made it difficult for him to swallow.
Elie guessed that the dog had been abandoned as a puppy with a puppy-sized collar that remained on his neck as he grew to adulthood.
Appalled at the animal’s condition, and hoping for more information, she cautiously approached a dread-locked homeless man who was watching her watch the dog. The man appeared to live in a sort of lean-to he had erected at the edge of the vacant lot. Not sure if he would talk to her, and if he did, what kind of sense he might or might not be able to make, Elie asked the dread-locked man if he knew anything about the sad creature.
The man, who introduced himself as Beebee, was surprisingly forthcoming and articulate. He figured, he said, the animal had been abandoned by some other homeless people who might have been arrested or simply moved on. Or maybe somebody else dumped him. Beebee had been jittery about approaching the suffering dog, he said, but he’d been setting out some of his own food for the animal daily in hoping to at least keep the dog alive.
Elie told Beebee she would be back later with some provisions.
After thinking things over, Elie decided not to call Animal Control. She worried that they would euthanize the dog as he was obviously in such lousy shape. Better, she thought, to try to do a little ad hoc dog nursing herself. When and if the animal got healthier, she could rethink where to go from there.
Elie named the dog Milagro—miracle—because that’s what she figured she would need to make this work.
She came back that night. And the next day and the next night, and every day and night after that. She brought with her a water bowl, high protein food and even a doorless dog crate shelter of sorts, that a friend gave her. Maybe he’d use it on the days that it rained, she thought. Every day she laid food out in such a way that she gradually lured the hurting dog ever closer to her until finally Milagro got up the courage to snatch hot dogs and other treats from her hand.
Always he ate with desperation, fighting to be able to get the food past the choking collar and down his throat,.
After Milagro was willing to consistently take food while Elie watched, she began a two-week course of antibiotics that she pushed into his nightly meal.
In between her visits, Beebee would watch the dog, giving Elie reports of what had occurred during the day, how the dog was doing, if he seemed to have a set back, or was doing marginally better.
And so began an unlikely rescue operation by an attorney and homeless guy. Beebee told Elie that he was a former navel man who had once worked on a nuclear sub. Elie told Beebee that she was a lawyer and he began calling her “Mrs. Perry Mason.”
Eventually, however, if Milagro was to survive she would have to find a way to get that strangling, ingrown collar off of him.
TO BE CONTINUED THURSDAY
Note: if you have an interest in adopting or foster parenting either Milagro and/or his girl friend Novia (more about Novia tomorrow), Elie may be reached at: sparkarooney@yahoo.com