I didn’t know that the dog was alive – or even that the object lying on the sewer grating was a dog – until he lifted his head as I drove past on my way to work on September 10, 2001. That weak movement, and his randomly arranged limbs, told me he was in a bad way. It was a little-used road through a park, early in the morning – who knew how long he’d been lying there in pain….
Pulling over, I walked up to him cautiously; he was a young dog, a Lab/Pitbull mix, and he watched me listlessly, whimpering. I made eye contact with him, silently communicating love and compassion, and placed my hands on him, flowing Reiki. His tail thumped once. His face was scored with lacerations and three of his legs seemed to be broken…hit by a car, perhaps? And how to get help at 8:00 in the morning – or to pay for the treatment he needed?
Picking him up as gently as I could, I maneuvered him over to my open car door and up onto the back seat. A couple of weak whimpers escaped him, but his tail thumped again. I leaned in with my hands on his shoulderblades, flowing Reiki, and with a sigh he put his head down on the seat. I got into the driver’s seat with one hand reaching back, flowing Reiki as we drove to the SPCA. The dog slept all the way, breathing deeply.
Later that day, the SPCA called me at work, as I’d requested: the vet found the dog too badly injured for them to treat. Did I want him put down, or would I take on responsibility for his care? I’d already shared his story with my coworkers, and with their enthusiastic support, and a bundle of donations in hand, I took the dog – now named Buddy by popular consent – to the vet who took the SPCA’s special cases. He gave me the diagnosis: three legs intentionally broken with a baseball bat, and lacerations on his face and body from being mauled as bait in a dog-fighting ring.
That news touched off a firestorm of support for Buddy: more than $3500 in donations raised between my coworkers and their families across several companies, matched by a grant from a Lab/Pitbull nonprofit. With his characteristic sweetness, Buddy went through three operations and six months of rehab, and was later adopted by an adoring family.