Completed Rescue Story: Prince the Toy Poodle Puppy

Once a month NMDR takes dogs from mills up to a rescue in New York. On the way back NMDR picks up dogs to take back to Lily's Haven. It was my first time on a trip like this when I met Prince.

It was a foggy and dreary morning in Missouri. We were picking up 20+ cats from an over run shelter and transporting them back to Colorado for another rescue organization. There was also a woman who was meeting us there to drop off an older black lab who she had saved from a high kill shelter. The woman who was meeting us had a surprise, a six week old toy poodle puppy. We couldn't believe it, a puppy, and one so young? As it turned out his breeder (puppy mill) dumped him and left him to die, because a puppy with a bad leg won't sell at a pet store.

Being one of two people in the back of the rescue van I took it upon myself to care for him. We weren't sure he was going to make it.

The first challenge was to keep him warm. The air conditioning in the van had to be kept on to keep the cats and other dogs on board from overheating. However made it much too cold for a puppy of that size and age. To me the solution was clear, press him up against me so he could use my warmth; use a towel to help keep the warmth in and then zip him and the towel into my jacket. He rode like that from Missouri to Colorado. By the time we were half way back to Colorado I had decided to foster him. I had also decided on a name, Prince, after The Little Prince and his big adventures.

The ride from MO to CO was not just a battle to keep him warm. It was a struggle to keep him hydrated and nourished as well. Every hour I would scoop up bits of chicken baby food and nutrical onto my finger and let him nurse and lick it off. He wouldn't eat from a bowl or spoon.

I must admit when we pulled off the highway for food I got a burger and fed him some. How could you resist that face and a new found desire to eat?

Mid-day rolled around and we had begun to worry again about the little Prince. He had peed, but had yet to poo. We worried that maybe something was wrong inside. I tried stimulating him with a warm, damp rag to no avail. So at one point when he wiggled, telling me he wanted out to pee I didn't think much of it. That was before the smell hit me and what a smell it was. Something like rotting chicken baby food mixed with the most foul garbage smell you can imagine.

It woke up one of our rescue team who had previously been sleeping so peacefully in the front seat. We all had a good laugh about that one.

By the time it was dark again we were back in Colorado. To be honest I don't remember the drive back to my house from Lily's Haven. It had been nearly a week since leaving to go on the rescue, nearly a week of no sleep and poor diet. And then began the nightly ritual, every hour I woke up to feed him.

Every. Single. Hour. All. By. My. Self.

It wore me thin and strained my relationship. It taught me patience. It taught me to be responsible. Either I woke up and fed him or he wouldn't make it. He didn't like the puppy formula, or the mushy kibble. He didn't want to drink water on his own. Every meal was a fight and he wasn't going to take food quietly.

By week two I had tried just about everything to get him to eat on his own. Then I found something. Boiled chicken breasts. So I made a compromise with him. I would let him eat the chicken for one meal, then the next I would use a syringe to force feed a puppy formula, mushy puppy kibble mix. (And here is where I bow down to the awesome power of my blender.)

But don't let me make you think it's all hard work.

He would snuggle up to me in his doggy sweater, and sleep on his back, paws splayed in the air. (You can really see his deformed paw in the next two photos.)

He “attacked” my cat, who was less then amused with the white fluffy abomination in her house.

 Once Prince found his voice he and growled at plush toy, me, the cat...anything really. (Turn the volume up for growling puppy cuteness.)

After fostering him for several weeks (total) he went to a very experienced vet, who looked at his leg. It was clear from the x-rays that his leg would need to be amputated, but being a small breed and being so young he would adapt just fine. I left him at the clinic, he would be fostered there until his surgery.

His surgery was a success and he now lives with one of the vet techs, who fell in love with him when he first came in. I still think about him, how he looked that first day and how we all thought he might not make it.