A lovely Easter Eve (is that a correct term?) Saturday inspired me to accompany HM, The Queen of All Pugs on an afternoon walkabout in her 2nd favorite park. The small Mill Creek Park is close, has a nice trail and is relatively free of the shady characters and trash that litter most of midtown. We were rounding the bend by the fountain when we found ourselves face to face (muzzle to muzzle actually) with a rather large canine. Being a narrow walkway, there was not much we could do to avoid the encounter.
HM attempted to greet the fellow walker while her daddy asked me "now what kind of dog is that?" The temptation to slap him with my white butler's glove and icily state that HM is NOT a "that" or actually a dog for that matter passed and I replied "Pug". HM continued to check out her new friend, but the new friend was not all that amused.
I detected some Chow; the ruddy red coat, stocky body and black tongue gave that away. Her face, however, was pure German Shepherd; long nose, prominent teeth quite apparent.
"She is a Chow-German Shepherd mix", the nice fellow stated verifying my observations. "And a lucky one too. I found her 12 years ago in December, she was trying to suckle her dead mother under a porch of an abandoned building. Mother had probably been dead a few days and the tiny pup about 3-4 weeks old. Probably were some other pups, but they were likely dead too. I had tried to get to her but could not, so I got some help. As we were almost under the structure, a pack of feral dogs came running up. The alpha male, probably her papa, was a big, ugly Chow mix, all mangy, bloody and dirty. Mean too. Although his bitch was dead, he was still defending his territory. Got a hold of my pants and coat, but not me luckily. My friend got some bricks and boards and fought them off, just enough for me to grab the pup and get out of there."
By now, HM and her new friend were cautiously checking each other out. Her friend's dad was making sure she did not get too close to Puggles and I was doing the same. Sorry, but I do not trust Chows, they are a bit aggressive and temperamental. I did note that the Chow had a nice white leather collar with stones and a matching leash. She was obviously now quite well removed from her humble beginnings.
"Well", continued the fellow, "I took her to a vet and it was touch and go for a while. She like to never gain weight and fought mange for a long time. But, as you can see, she is a healthy girl, been my friend and companion for all that time, haven't you girl??" He gave her a big pat and ear scratch and her fluffy tail wagged happily. "She is lucky for sure, so she is named 'Luckita', lucky to be alive."
We chatted a bit and went our separate ways along the winding path. A few minutes later I noted them by their car. The man opened the door, produced a bowl of water for Luckita to lap happily. Finishing her drink, she sat obediently and got a treat of some sort. After a few more rubs, ear scratches and treats, Luckita, her bushy tail contentedly wagging, hopped in the front seat of the mini-van and off they went.
Some things are just meant to be, no questions asked.
