Tales of Tails: Micah

Warning: This story contains images and details that may be difficult for some readers.

July, 2018. I was a foster for a rescue based in Dallas, GA. which specializes in pit bulls. The blue gray walls of my bedroom matched my disposition. Rescue can be such a beautiful thing, full of moments of triumph when a dog you poured your soul into gets a chance that no one else would give them. It was my reason for carrying on for a long time, but I would be lying if I said rescue never broke my heart. I was grieving losses that I think many rescuers would describe as a “you can’t save them all” situation, when I decided to scroll Facebook for a distraction. I had recently decided to pull two 3-week-old puppies from an animal control facility in Georgia, mama was unable to be housed with her puppies due to aggression issues with the staff. When the puppies were born in animal control, there were 10 to start. By the time I got to them, 2 had made it. Myself, my mother, and my rescue poured everything we had into those two boys, but between mom’s malnutrition during pregnancy, and a combination of other factors working against them, it was too much for their tiny bodies. We lost them both in the span of roughly a week. I felt so deeply that I had failed them, I wondered if there was anything more I could have done. My confidence as a foster was wounded. As I scrolled mindlessly through Facebook, attempting to take my mind off of the guilt, a post emerged that caught my eye in a way others had not. A local Animal Control facility in Henry County, Ga. posted about a severely malnourished, heartworm positive, intact male senior dog with eye issues. I believe they estimated him to be roughly 8 years old. I looked through the photos of the emaciated dog, and found a stirring in my chest as I looked into his deep brown eyes. Right around the time I had mentally settled on asking my mom if I could pull him, she walked in the room to show him to me herself. We decided right then and there to bring him home, and it is still one of the best decisions I have made to this day.

I remember the day had finally come, I was eagerly waiting at home for my mom to return from Henry County Animal Control. She was just coming back to drop him off, and then she had to leave again to help with other things going on within the rescue. I stood by the front door, peering through the glass as my mother’s car pulled into our short driveway. Opening the front door, I made my way down the walkway to her Nissan. She stepped out, warned me of his condition (and of his smell,) and then opened the back door to reveal a sunken, scared, exhausted dog. He was disgusting, had been rolling in and eating dead animals for who knows how long. His head hung, and slowly those big brown eyes came up to meet mine, full of fear, uncertainty, and tiredness.

We decided to keep the name he was given at Animal Control: Micah

My mom carried Micah’s fatigued body into our house and to my tub. Shortly after she had to leave again, and as I stood alone in the bathroom with this new dog, I couldn’t help but be weary at first. New dog, never met me, terrified, malnourished, and now I’m trying to give him a bath? It could be a recipe for disaster. But as I approached the tub, let him sniff me, and gently placed my hand on his head, that all fell apart. This sick, sad, scared dog melted into my hands as I bathed him, washing away the animal carcasses, dirt, blood, and whatever else stained his body. Soon after, I carried Micah into my room which I had excitedly spent hours preparing for him. I gently sat him in front of his large crate, stuffed with blankets and pillows for him to rest on. He immediately took off into it, investigating with his nose as his eyes did not allow for much sight at this point.

However, him being in the crate did not last long. I sat on my bed, peering down at him as he sat wearily in the kennel. Those brown eyes met mine yet again, and before I knew it, I was picking him up so he could lie in my bed. Micah stepped apprehensively around my queen sized bed, nose to the comforter. I softly reached for him, gently touching the top of his head as I had done before. As I began to pet him, he slowly made his way up towards me. He waivered as my scratches and rubs got more intense and he got more relaxed, until his sunk-in and emaciated back-end finally rested on my bed and left him in a sit. I remember sitting in bed with him, giving him the same spiel I gave all my new fosters. It mostly consisted of promises for things to get better, and telling them I would find them the best home I could. Somewhere in the middle of that, Micah slid down until his head was nestled in the blanket in my lap. I will never forget that moment. I felt his body, tense and malnourished, finally breathe a sigh of relief as all his muscles softened and his eyes began to close. We stayed like that for a long time.

Rehabilitating Micah was a months-long endeavor. He was severely heartworm positive, needed eye surgery that he couldn’t get until his heart healed from the heartworms. The first 2-3 weeks he was with me, he was still dealing with ticks and fleas because he was too underweight for flea/tick treatment. When he arrived at my house, he was 44lbs. We had a very, very long road ahead of us.

There were many hard days, many nights I woke up to Micah not feeling well. I sat up quite a few times with him, especially in the earlier days of his recovery. Later down the road, he sat up with me on the nights I needed him. Micah restored my faith in myself as a foster during this time, as I watched a dog on death’s door breathe new life into himself and me every passing day. I think I can confidently say I restored Micah’s faith in humanity. It sounds cocky, but when you watch a dog come back from something so horrific because you gave him that chance, and you see big, brown eyes full of happiness and not fear, you have to know that’s what it is.

It took a lot of effort, strength, dedication, quite a few long days and nights, and several rounds of heartworm treatment. Slowly his head, ribs, and legs filled in, his gastrointestinal worms were eliminated. Micah genuinely looked like a different dog, he carried himself like a different dog. A happy dog. At the end of everything, Micah went from 44lbs to 85lbs. When his personality began to emerge, our bond strengthened very deeply. From the first few weeks, as he began to trust me, he allowed himself to let more and more of his silly personality out. The more I observed, played with, cuddled with, and talked to (as crazy as it sounds) this dog, I realized how genuinely special he was. A dog that was set to be euthanized the day I asked to bring him home, discarded, abused, and unappreciated was my reason for getting out of bed every single morning. To this day, almost 6 years later, I remain adamant that he was my heart dog.

On January 18th, 2019, after thorough vetting of the applicants, my mom and I set out to take Micah to a potential home. When we arrived, it was immediately everything I had ever dreamed of for him. He was so friendly, so playful, loved kids, loved other dogs, and this family wanted to give him a home with sprawling land for him to play on, kids, and another dog to play with. I honestly had to pinch myself a few times as we talked with them and learned more about his potential new life. We spent quite a bit of time there, and in that time I watched him relax and unwind the same way he did in my bed that first day. In that moment, I knew that was where he was meant to be.

Micah went home early February of 2019, it was bittersweet. I loved Micah, deeply bonded with him, more than I have bonded with any dog, but as a foster, I just could not provide him with the adequate attention, time, and effort he deserved. He deserved a home that revolved around him, and I know he has that.

Out of every foster I have had, every furry friend I have encountered and loved, Micah will always be that dog for me. He taught me more than I ever realized, about myself, about rescue, about life. I will forever be grateful that fostering gave me the privilege of meeting him.

Thank you for joining me for Tales of Tails, adopt don’t shop, spay and neuter your pets… oh, and pet your dog for me.