YOU RESCUED ME

I want to believe that the owners started out with the best of intentions. They had to consciously decide to buy a breed and puppy, and they had to spend money to care for the animal. One doesn't accidently get pregnant with a pet. Unless he was a stray who wandered into their lives, it was a deliberate decision to become pet owners. Perhaps they started off as responsible owners providing proper food, shelter, water, and love. Perhaps he had a clean, spacious pen with dog toys and bones to keep him company. However, tragically along the way in five short years, something went terribly wrong. The owners took a disturbing turn, and this dog's life was forever altered. This is the story of Roscoe the Saint Bernard from Wyoming, and his daring rescue journey to Colorado.

Roscoe had lived a sad, painful, lonely life when he finally came to the attention of a kind, worried neighbor. No telling how long he had suffered the harsh weather elements of Wyoming. Wind, sun, snow, and extreme temperatures had taken their toll on him, no doubt causing him to suffer dearly. The first thing anyone noticed besides his size and gorgeous breed was his nose. It could be compared to raw hamburger meat as windburn, sunburn, and frostbite had taken their toll.

In addition to his nose, he was underweight. He had not been fed the proper nutrition which also made his coat wiry, dull, and lifeless. His teeth had not been adequately cared for either. They were badly decayed for such a young age, and a couple of them needed to be extracted. But perhaps the most severe damage of all was psychological. It was clear to those responsible for rescuing him that he suffered emotionally in the areas of fear of abandonment, food hoarding, fear of men and objects, and extreme submissiveness. How long had this abuse and neglect been going on was anybody's guess. All there was to do now was to move forward with the care and love this sweet animal deserved!

As fate would have it, Roscoe caught the attention of some kind neighbor in Wyoming. A phone call was made and shelters were contacted. But Wyoming did not have a breed specific Saint Bernard rescue like its neighboring state Colorado did. Luckily for Roscoe, the Colorado Saint Bernard Rescue, or CSBR for short, was contacted, and Roscoe began his journey towards loving care. Lucky for his previous, horrific owners, I was not the one assigned to pick him up. I would have ended up needing bail money. I believe there is nothing quite so heinous as child, elderly, or animal abuse.

At the time, CSBR was run by a woman named Nina, and a wonderful group of dedicated volunteers who understood the breed and how special they were. Unlike other rescues, these dogs were fostered in the volunteers homes so training, socialization and care could be one on one and more hands on than at a shelter facility. All rescued Saints passed through Nina's home first while she found a foster family willing to take them in. Roscoe was in the middle of his stay with Nina, receiving the vet care needed for his physical issues, and the care and socialization needed for his emotional issues while waiting to be chipped, neutered, and accepted by a foster family. The older the dog, the more issues/set in their ways there can be, thus, harder to find fosters/adoptees. Roscoe was five years old when he came to us, which is considered an older dog due to the Saint's life expectancy of eight to ten years.

I had been a volunteer for CSBR for a couple of years when Roscoe crossed my path. Nina was going out of town and had asked if I would doggie sit for him in my home until she came back. I wasn't hosting any fosters at the time, so I had the room. I picked him up on a Friday afternoon after school. I was excited to doggie sit and have a playmate for my own Saint Bernard. It took a bit of effort for him to greet me and get into my car, but we managed. He had high anxiety the whole car ride back to my house. I talked to him in soothing tones trying to gain some trust. I knew it wasn't going to be an easy weekend.

The first night at my house he would not come through the garage door. I coaxed him with my voice and treats and the curiosity of playing with another Saint in a nice backyard. Once inside, he would not go any farther, so I slept with him on the floor by the garage door. The next day I made sure he had plenty of food and water, which he inhaled until he realized I wasn't taking those things away from him. I went about my day and he slowly got more curious and explored his surroundings. It was painfully obvious he had never been in a house, or sat on a couch, or laid on a bed before. When he finally climbed the stairs and slept on the bed with me that night, I silently cheered in victory and gave him heaps of praise and treats. I learned the hard way that due to his food hoarding issues, he was a counter surfer. I left a hunk of cheddar cheese on the counter while making dinner, and when I turned my back, it was gone out the doggie door and into the backyard in his jaws before I could stop him! Needless to say, I didn't make that mistake again.

As I looked into his soulful eyes at the end of the long weekend, they told me all I needed to know. I could not put this poor sweet boy through anymore transitions. He had just begun to trust me and the love and care and understanding I was providing for him. As for me, I had already fallen in love with this precious fur baby. So when Nina called to make a plan for returning him, I told her there was a change in plans. I was adopting Roscoe, the Saint Bernard from Wyoming. Nina says she knew when she left for Las Vegas that I would be a "foster failure". I certainly didn't mind failing at this!

If I was going to rehabilitate Roscoe in the short time he had left with me, I knew I needed a lesson plan. The first thing I did was enroll him in obedience school. Although he was very submissive, he still needed basic commands. More importantly, he needed the human and dog socialization. Every Friday night for six weeks my social life consisted of dates with my handsome man Roscoe. With his size and rarely seen breed, he was the hit of class too. He bonded with a male owner in class which helped his fear of males. Roscoe went on to bond with my dad. After all, they were both from Wyoming! My dad became quite fond of my hot mess boy, and they cuddled on the couch often. One day I came home and my landscaper was visibly upset. He had picked up a shovel to use and Roscoe ran away from him, cowering. A few short days later, Roscoe and the landscaper were inseparable. When I asked Randy what he had done to win him over, he said beer had done the trick!

Over time, Roscoe overcame many of his fears such as mops, newspapers, magazines, and the anxiety of me abandoning him. My friends made up fun stories about his nose such as damage done by rescuing people from their roofs during hurricane Katrina. We laughed at people's reactions. They were just trying to distract me from all the suffering this poor animal endured. As with the students in my classroom, I could only control my time with him, not the past. That sweet soul gave me three years of bliss as his mom, rescuer, and protector. I can only hope I made up for some of his pain. The day I decided to take a chance on Roscoe was one of the best days of my life. I knew it was the right decision to rescue a dog so full of love in spite of what he had been through. I never looked back; no regrets. I hope Roscoe's story will help inspire others to adopt a rescued animal. It is such a rewarding experience with deserving beings that give so selflessly to us.