As (French for 'ace' ) was a Belgian Malinois whom I had rescued from a Shelter (French: refuge ) which had deemed him unadoptable, but had put out an SOS for his rescue after a year's confinement in their sad conditions.

He was, apparently "an escape artist". He could climb up chain-link fencing. He had escaped from at least two owners, repeatedly; picked up and put in the Dog Pound, and then re-claimed or taken by another unpleasant person. He had been 'employed' as a guard dog in an old warehouse, kept in a cage all day, and let out at night...when he tried and eventually succeeded in escaping.

His front teeth had been ground down to pathetic stumps from biting the bars all day long.

Eventually he was brought to the Shelter. But when any prospective adopters came to or passed his cage, he would rush towards them barking and growling. He was terrified of any loud or sudden noise.

I was told all this when I answered the SOS. I went to see him - together with my cat-loving neighbour. Two volunteers had brought him out into a field where he wouldn't feel so vulnerable. He growled at me, of course. I hunkered down and spoke quietly to him. The volunteers brought him closer. Within a few minutes he allowed me to touch him. Then we went for a walk, the volunteers holding him at first, then passing the lead to me. He allowed me to stroke him. I walked him a few hundred metres, then brought him back towards the volunteer helpers. He saw my car (in which he had seen me arrive) and made a dash for the back seat, pulling the lead out of my hand.

This was encouraging, and I agreed to come back the next day, sign the papers and take him home. My neighbour approved, even though we had been warned that he should not go near cats (which he chased) or children (who terrified him). Presumably he had been taunted by children when he was caged.

We bonded immediately. He never ran away. In fact, after taking him from the Shelter I stopped the car at a wood and let him off the lead. He stayed near me, sniffing excitedly, and then hopped back into the car, which he perceived to be a safe place.

During the first night, while I was in bed, he repeatedly went up and down the stairs, which were for him evidently some kind of problem - probably from his patrol-nights.

In the house always followed me about, from room to room, which was no problem for me at all.

We adapted to each other very easily, and liked each other close by. All the time he was with me he was never left alone (except in the car) for more than half an hour. Evidently, his early life had been so limited that he had never played before. When other dogs came to visit and wanted to play, he was at a loss. Likewise outdoors at the pond in the woods below my house. But soon I introduced him to a tennis ball (indoors) and a proper-sized football outdoors. He became an excellent dribbler, and every day we went to the communal playing-fields for him to play nose-ball. This was bliss for him - and very good exercise with little effort on my part.

He was very keen to protect me, and I to protect him. But gradually he lost his fear of children, growled at fewer and fewer (to him threatening) people who approached him, and even made friends with one or two select, truly-dogloving humans. He was always good with other dogs.

But the cat problem remained. If he saw a cat running when he was off the lead, he gave chase. He killed two sick, starved kittens amongst many encouraged by my neighbour and deplored by other neighbours.

On another occasion, a wandering cockerel was shaken to death.
Then, one day, when I let him off the lead in the local graveyard, he broke into an adjoining chicken-coop I hadn't noticed, and killed some hens.

Finally, just over two years after I adopted him, he somehow got into a fight with and killed the very nice cat of the neighbour who had gone with me to see him in the Shelter.

This was too much. He had to go. He was 'unadoptable'. There was no point in bringing him back to the Shelter; in any case, he might have felt utterly betrayed. So I decided to try the Chloroquine.

First, I gave him an over-the-counter anti-emetic in a piece of meat. Half an hour later, I mixed 7 grams of Chloroquine with his food, which he gobbled as rapidly as ever did any dog who has once starved.

I knew that the Chloroquine took time to have effect, which is why a soporific is recommended for humans. I had my dinner, he licked the plates happily as usual. Then I took him for his usual evening walk around the castle walls. As ever, he sniffed happily along (he was the most nose-oriented dog I have ever had, and might have made a good truffler). Two thirds of the way round he suddenly stopped, staggered twice, and dropped dead.

He is buried in the woods he loved.

 

My greatest joy has always been in seeing the joy of a dog.


mo
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