Beth Meadows

The Story of the Sad Sheep Dog Part II

"Samuel the Sheepdog", "animal", "cute", "love", "sad"B3 Comments
Remember my vicious and sad sheep dog friend? Here's an update.

I've cut him free and we're now living in a craftsmen style bungalow in South Knoxville. He and Juicy are getting along juuust fine...


No, his life is still tragic, especially now with the summer heat. He spends his days a filthy heap of fur asleep by his house. 

His owners did shave him, so they aren't 100% terrible. Only 99.

I have taken it upon myself to give him treats and a reason to live. Of course, they're dental treats because I mean business in my Good Samaritan efforts. 

The first time I tried to give him one, I called for him to come up the hill to me, but he stayed on the porch. I threw it to him, it bounced off the deck, and ricocheted out of his reach. Fail.

The next time, I had a better throw, he ate it, and stared at me from the porch. Progress.

This past weekend, I coaxed him to come up the hill to me. He's still a little snarly, so I used my trusty stick to pet him. 

I gave him the treat, and then he started doing the same thing he did when I freed him from the tree trunk he had wrapped himself around in the storm- he bounded around playfully. I continued to stick pet him but I knew he wanted something more. 
It looks like he has little sore spots on his skin (mange? I should know this, but I don't) where flies keep landing. Or maybe the flies like him because he's dirty. 
I did pet him on the head with my bear* hand for about ten seconds. Then I went home to wash my hands immediately.
In my teeny tiny bubble of a world, this is the most risky thing I've done with my life in a long time. Not only is he unpredictable, but I have this wonderful feeling I'm going to get a gun pulled on me one day very soon. The blinds of the house are closed and I only visit when there aren't any cars in the driveway, but still. This is life on the edge, and it's exhilarating. 
I decided to give him a name. My first thought was Pookie Face, but then, I thought, no. A desperate dog such as this needs a strong and noble namesake. So I've named him Samuel, after Samuel Hamilton.