Last week I received a very disturbing email from a man who had vacationed in Bocas at the Punta Rica Jungle Villas. He happened to see one of the spay clinic flyers and emailed me about a dog who had been left tied to the house when his owners moved. Since then he has been severely abused and has a broken hip and rib. This story, though heartbreaking, was not that shocking to me as we've all seen these situations here before. However, I promised him I would search for this dog.
So yesterday, with the help of the owners of Punta Rica, Colette and Richard, Jim Schmidt and I found the dog. Dr. Juan provided some emergency shots for malnutrition, ticks, and skin wounds and Jim is fostering and caring for it... for now. He has to become stronger before he can receive the operations he needs. Nonetheless, I am already in love with this poor pup and am pulling for his recovery.
Well, that's the way it started. I brought the poor dog home and we were greeted at the dog by my dogs. The pooch got scared, I went after it, my dogs went after me and I wandered through the mangroves in mucky, marshy water, up slopes, slipping, sliding, tearing clothes. I tied my dog to a tree and proceeded with the bitch. I finally found the stray and started to carry it home. My flashlight went out, my spare batteries were still on the boat.
Kind of hard to get lost when all you have to do is keep the sea on your left. I couldn't believe how far I had gone.
Up to the house carrying the pooch and vitamins, antibiotics, food, flea shampoo, and sundry. The next morning I opened the door, my dog burst in the pooch ran out and through the rails on the stairs. Game on again. I grabbed a machete and spent the next five hours hacking my way through the jungle in rubber boots. Every time I heard the dog it appeared the same distance away. He didn't want me to find him, he had an issue with my dog who was back at the house. Another pursuit the next day. A neighbor across the island spotted it, I heard it at night. How long could this thing sustain itself? As I write this, nine days later the pooch has still not been located.
So yesterday, with the help of the owners of Punta Rica, Colette and Richard, Jim Schmidt and I found the dog. Dr. Juan provided some emergency shots for malnutrition, ticks, and skin wounds and Jim is fostering and caring for it... for now. He has to become stronger before he can receive the operations he needs. Nonetheless, I am already in love with this poor pup and am pulling for his recovery.
Well, that's the way it started. I brought the poor dog home and we were greeted at the dog by my dogs. The pooch got scared, I went after it, my dogs went after me and I wandered through the mangroves in mucky, marshy water, up slopes, slipping, sliding, tearing clothes. I tied my dog to a tree and proceeded with the bitch. I finally found the stray and started to carry it home. My flashlight went out, my spare batteries were still on the boat.
Kind of hard to get lost when all you have to do is keep the sea on your left. I couldn't believe how far I had gone.
Up to the house carrying the pooch and vitamins, antibiotics, food, flea shampoo, and sundry. The next morning I opened the door, my dog burst in the pooch ran out and through the rails on the stairs. Game on again. I grabbed a machete and spent the next five hours hacking my way through the jungle in rubber boots. Every time I heard the dog it appeared the same distance away. He didn't want me to find him, he had an issue with my dog who was back at the house. Another pursuit the next day. A neighbor across the island spotted it, I heard it at night. How long could this thing sustain itself? As I write this, nine days later the pooch has still not been located.
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