From hell to home

Hungry. Thirsty. Tired. In pain. In so much pain you can't even relieve yourself. That was Nala.

She was in a dark place. A home that didn't care for her. A dirty cell called a cage. Never cleaned or maintained, and the dog inside, never loved.

She was a rescue. I- we, my family, never knew anything about her previous caretakers. Judging by what she went through, I pray we never do. It was a small, unkempt house in North Jersey where the family was barely, if ever, home. Par for the course too, since when the shelter we got Nala from found her, she was on the verge of death. Not only was her basic needs of life not even being met, but her colon and intestines were infected. Badly.

The doctors weren't sure what the infection was. They believe it was something from the cage she slept in. I wish we still had the picture for us to show you just what Nala went through. It was a rusted piece of junk, simplest way to describe it. There wasn't a mat, a cushion, nothing on the bottom. Just cold, unkempt pavement with the bottom of the cage twisted and warped scratching at Nala whenever she slept.

It was those pieces of the rusted cage that were warped that the doctors believe really infected her. That the cage in its dilapidated state scratched Nala in her colon and caused her issue. With owners like her own, I would bet that going to the doctor was never an option. Shoot, they probably didn't even know.

Laying there at the shelter when we laid eyes on her matted auburn coat, she was barely conscious because she just got through her surgery a week ago when we saw her. The doctors said that due to the infections, she had to have half of her small and large intensities removed, along with parts of her colon. The infection would've killed her from the inside out of they did not. They thought that she may never go to the bathroom right, never be able to eat and digest food the same way.

That didn't stop us.

There was something about Nala that we couldn't place. She was a St. Bernard mixed with a bunch of other dogs that, to this day, we still don't know about. She was a mutt in the most basic sense. But she had big, beautiful eyes. She had a wonderful auburn-ish coat. She had adorable floppy ears and even though she was exhausted, her eyes told us the whole story. They told us that all she wanted was love. All she wanted was a warm bed. "Feed me and take me home! I swear it will be worth it! We can do this together!"

She may have been down, but she was not out.

So we picked her out of every other dog in the shelter. To say the workers were surprised was an understatement. Not because of the dog she was, but because of the amount of care she would require. They handed us folders upon folders of medial information- all documented on how we would best take care of her. They sent us home with at least five different prescriptions, told us to give her soft dog food, mix it in with some rice, maybe some chicken, and feed her small meals throughout the day, at least five times a week.

The biggest point they reinforced was her bathroom habits. She was housebroken, sure, but for most of her life stranded in that cage. Forced to relieve herself on a floor encrusted with god knows what dirt and feces. Undoubtedly some of it was from herself. The rest? Who knew.

So simply speaking she was not thrilled trying to go to the bathroom. First week she would wimper, and cry when she tried. We would give her soft, small treats to encourage her. The medicine helped numb the pain. The rice made the stools harder.

Every day for at least a month or two, same routine. Go out with Nala, encourage her to poop with treats, give her easy to digest food, go out again, so on and so fourth. We had to be by her side through every step.

But it was worth it. Within two months after we got her, she started pooping normally. Her coat started looking better. She even started to gain a bit of weight because she found her love of food again!

Not a day that goes by that we do not regret picking her. She made it through hell and came back clean on the other side. She is ours, and she made good on her promise to bring our family endless love and affection.