That one-and-a-half-year-old pup has grown into a gray-muzzled, little old lady. Spikey Doo has come a long way since those first sketchy days, and, believe it or not, today she is a role model for other dogs with socialization issues like the ones she had. She routinely helps new foster dogs coming into our home by “showing them the ropes” and being a positive role model. New dogs look to her example to see how to act.
Life without Spikey Doo is unimaginable to me. Helping her become the wonderful girl she is today was one of my first true challenges, but all it really took was patience, love, and understanding. Spikey Doo taught me several crucial lessons about dogs. Through Spikey’s first meeting with my pets, I saw how dogs truly are individuals—just because all my other dogs liked other animals didn’t mean that every dog would behave the same way. I learned that the most powerful tools in helping create change are patience and understanding. Once I took the time to see the world through Spikey Doo’s eyes, it helped me to figure out the best way to help her. And my experience with her put me on the path to Best Friends and to a career dedicated to saving dogs just like her. I owe her a great deal and am thankful for every day I get to spend with the infamous Spikey Doo.
Wiggles’ cute face and winning personality are impossible to resist.
14
Wiggles: The Cutest Ugly Dog
Wiggles, a little fawn-colored bulldog mix, was a year-old pup when an animal control officer picked him up wandering the streets of California in 2007. He might as well have been arrested for public drunkenness, because the most noticeable thing about Wiggles was that he couldn’t seem to walk in a straight line. With his bottom jaw jutting out and his black-spotted tongue lolling out of his mouth, he looked like a rum-sodden sailor, always listing to starboard, crashing into things, and sometimes just plain falling over. Animal control was charmed by the young dog’s silly personality; they kept Wiggles with them for a few months but couldn’t find him a home. The shelter staff in California knew that Wiggles might have some serious health issues that they couldn’t handle, so they called up Best Friends, which decided to take on this dizzy stray dog.
When Wiggles arrived at Dogtown for diagnosis and treatment, his quirky looks and wobbly walk very quickly began winning over the volunteers and staff. His listing gait and his funny face were only part of the package. Wiggles was a sweet, friendly boy who enjoyed people and attention. Nobody seemed quite able to resist him.
It was Wiggles’ face that was the killer. The whole thing looked as though it were halfway smashed in, in that classic bulldog way, as if he’d collided with a wall at high speed. But he had an immense protruding underbite displaying a rack of canines that looked as though they were intended to stop fights simply by looking so scary. Yet at the same time, there were those sweet, expressive brown eyes, without a hint of threat in them, and those erect, forward-pointing ears, one up, one flopping down.
The contrast between those amiable eyes and the predatory underbite was so comical and charming that you couldn’t help smiling when seeing Wiggles wobble around his enclosure at Dogtown. The ferocity was not quite believable, being in such close proximity to the adorableness. Maybe that’s why some people think bulldogs are the ugliest dogs, others think they are the cutest dogs, and still others think the combination makes for one of the most endearing faces of all dogs.
“My first impression of Wiggles was that he’s just very cute in a very ugly sort of way,” said Dr. Mike Dix, head vet and medical director of the clinic at Dogtown. Dr. Mike, a serious-minded medical man, was primarily intent on making a medical assessment of this odd little animal when he was brought into the clinic. Still, Dr. Mike couldn’t help it: His heart went out to Wiggles.
“He is easily the ugliest, cutest dog I’ve seen in a long while,” he said. “He’s got charm. He’s goofy. He doesn’t just walk goofy, his personality’s a little goofy. He’s just very…endearing.”
“I LOVE IT 100 PERCENT OF THE TIME”
When Mike Dix was growing up, there was always a family dog, starting with a German shepherd, followed by a black Lab, who became Mike’s very own dog, and with whom he had a very close relationship. He always seemed to have close relationships with animals. When he went to visit his grandparents, he’d spend more time playing with their dogs than talking to them.
When he got a little older, he decided he was going to be a football or basketball player when he grew up. There was one big problem: “I had no talent.” So by high school, Mike decided to turn his love for animals and love of science into a career as a veterinarian.
Dr. Mike’s wife, Elissa Jones, was instrumental in bringing him to Dogtown. He had a busy veterinary practice in Portland, Oregon, until a few years ago, when Elissa, who was a devoted animal lover and a longtime member of Best Friends, started trying to persuade him to go to the sanctuary in Utah for a volunteer vacation. Elissa had traveled to Best Friends for several vacations and had adopted a dog there, and she loved the place.
Dr. Mike Dix, the head vet at Best Friends, examines Wiggles to diagnose the possible cause of his unstable walk.
“I’d say, ‘Sure, I’ll visit, but I work with animals all day long, so I’m not going down there on vacation and do the same thing,’” Dr. Mike told Elissa. He also wasn’t a big fan of the desert: hot, flat, and boring. Or so he thought. He kept resisting.
“But you know, I loved Elissa, so finally I came. And when we got here, it was actually a very gorgeous place. Everyone at Best Friends was great. I liked the work they were doing, and they just happened to be hiring a vet while I was here, so they asked me to spend some time in the clinic and I did.” When they offered him the job, he took it. Now that he is medical director of the busy clinic at Dogtown, Dr. Mike says, “I love it 100 percent of the time. I don’t stop smiling all day.”
“One of the most fulfilling things about being a vet is that I am just working for the animals, which is a wonderful feeling. That’s what I got into this business for. But one of the most frustrating and interesting challenges of veterinary medicine is the fact that the animals can’t tell you what’s wrong with them.”
Despite his touchingly expressive countenance, Wiggles couldn’t tell Dr. Mike what was wrong, whether he felt better or worse, or what he wanted. Dr. Mike had to figure it out and decide the best thing to do for him.
HUNTING FOR CLUES
Wiggles’ exact breed was difficult to determine since he had been picked up as a stray and there was no preexisting medical history for him. He appeared to have some bulldog in his background, but just how much could be not be ascertained with any certainty. Like most of the animals who entered Dogtown, Wiggles was more likely an unknown jambalaya of breeds and half-breeds all stirred up in a pot. Sure, he was probably mostly bulldog, but there were enough other ingredients in the secret sauce that Dr. Mike referred to him as “bulldoggish.”
On the other hand, one thing Dr. Mike noted during his initial medical evaluation was that in the California town where Wiggles was found, there had been a bulldog breeder. Some of Wiggles’ more “distinctive” traits resembled problems caused by inbreeding. It’s possible that Wiggles was a purebred dog gone awry—an attempt to achieve bulldog perfection that failed. Dog breeders sometimes use inbreeding to guarantee desirable traits—for instance, by breeding a male with brindle coloration (considered desirable) with a female of the same color. But this technique limits the gene pool and can lead to genetic mutations, with symptoms like the ones Wiggles displayed. His topsy-turvy drunkenness and underbite might have been a problem caused by bad breeding.
During his initial exam, Dr Mike had to determine if Wiggles suffered from a lifelong, possibly progressive illness caused by a breeding snafu, or if his condition was manageable. Wiggles sat quietly on the examination table and patiently submitted to a battery of diagnostic tests that would determine if his problems were neurological or caused by an illness. Though he could not communicate where he hurt or what he needed, Wiggles sat pat
iently on the exam table, his eyes expectant and trusting. His body may have been bulldoggish, but his heart was about as ferocious as a lollipop.
First, Dr. Mike took Wiggles’ front paw and turned it over, so that the “palm” was facing up and the back was on the table. Normally, a dog would quickly right his paws. But Wiggles just let them sit there, as if unaware of them. His reaction indicated that there was a disconnect between the nerves in Wiggles’ foot and his brain. The location of the problem—in the brain, the nerves, or the pathway to the brain—was unknown.
At the Dogtown medical clinic, a staff of 20 cares for the animals who temporarily live in its 25 cages (the equivalent of hospital beds). There are also a dental suite and an x-ray lab at the clinic.
Dr. Mike suspected there might be something going awry in Wiggles’ cerebellum, the part of the brain that controls balance, which also plays a vital role in basic motor function.
So he performed another simple diagnostic test, pretending to suddenly poke a finger in the dog’s eye. Each time, Wiggles blinked. This normal blink response meant that his cerebellum was normal, which indicated that the problem lay somewhere else.
Next, Dr. Mike x-rayed Wiggles’ spine to see if it was malformed. Surgery could fix a curved spinal column if that was the source of Wiggles’ problems. But an examination of the x-ray films on the viewing box ruled that out. “His spine looks pretty good,” Dr. Mike said. “That doesn’t mean it’s not a spinal issue, but there’s nothing obvious. So with a severe brain or spinal injury ruled out, it’s likely that Wiggles was born with some kind of genetic defect that affects his neurological system.
“Now if we ran every test possible—CT scan, MRI—and decided whether it was a brain problem or a spinal cord problem, you might find something surgically that you can repair. But is that really going to be in his best interest? I tend to be a minimalist for a lot of these cases, thinking that as long as the condition is not progressing and the animal is stable, why put them through a surgery that’s not a guarantee?” Dr. Mike explained.
He’s always ready for a good game of tug: Wiggles’ neurological issues never interfere with playtime.
Wiggles appeared to be medically stable, and he seemed to get around without pain in his everyday life at Dogtown, so Dr. Mike gave the go-ahead for adoption.
AN EMBARRASSING SOCIAL INDELICACY
When Wiggles moved in to Dogtown, he got his own private enclosure with comfortable indoor quarters and a doggie door leading to an outdoor run. It was a veritable palace, compared with life on the streets of California, and Wiggles seemed to relish the luxury during the months he spent there.
Visitors and staff were charmed by Wiggles’ physical comedy, his unsteadiness on his feet, and his habit of blundering into things. Though it was a little pitiable to see his awkwardness on his feet, it was amazing how well he actually got around. And it was clear, at least, that he was not in any pain when he toppled over. But what was most endearing about Wiggles was the fact that the spirit tucked inside that odd, imperfect little body was sturdy and resilient, always ready to play, and always ready to trust. That was perhaps the most striking thing about him: Here he was, a small creature who’d been dealt a truly wretched hand in life, handicapped from the moment of birth, thrown onto the streets, barely even able to walk. Yet whenever a caregiver went into his run and tossed him a ball or a stuffed toy, he ran after it delightedly, grabbed it, and brought it back, his eyes sparkling with joy and eagerness to do it all over again.
But finding a suitable adoptive family would not be easy. Wiggles had two big things going against him. The first was that it was just not clear why he was so unsteady on his feet, which meant that although the condition might get better, it might stay the same or even get worse.
The other problem was an embarrassing social indelicacy that showed up almost as soon as Wiggles was admitted to Dogtown: He couldn’t control his bowels and would occasionally—not often, but sometimes—simply drop a scat on the ground behind him. It wasn’t messy or difficult to clean up, but it was something most people would not want to deal with.
Even so, Dr. Mike knew from experience that some people “just love a challenge, so they actually look for dogs or cats that have problems.” Other people have special empathy for dogs with special problems—their hearts instinctively go out to them. And other people “just want dogs like this because they don’t think anybody else will take them, and they deserve to have a chance.”
Then, of course, there was Wiggles’ face. If the right person got one look at him, they’d be hopelessly gone. Finding that person would not be impossible. It would just be a whole lot more difficult than, say, finding an adoptive family for a pretty, housebroken golden retriever.
“Finding the right home for a squatty, bulldoggish dog who keeps falling over and occasionally drops poop—it’s just a little bit harder to find the right person for a dog like that,” Dr. Mike said.
AN F ON THE CAT TEST
“He’s too cute for words, but he walks like he’s drunk a lot of the time,” Kristi Littrell described as she talked on the phone. “The vet staff thinks he has some kind of neurological problem.”
She was talking to someone who has seen Wiggles’ picture on the Guardian Angel website and was interested in adoption. (The site is meant to find adoptive homes for special-needs dogs like Wiggles.) “We’ve also noticed that he has a little bit of, um, stress incontinence as well. Sometimes poop just kind of falls out of him, but it’s easy enough to clean up. We’re just looking for the right home, somebody who can love him and deal with all that.”
Kristi made no effort to “sell” Wiggles or to pretty up his picture in a less than honest way. She is interested only in finding adoptive homes for Dogtown residents that have the best chance of being permanent, which means one where everybody knows what they’re getting into, and where everybody winds up happy. Failing to mention Wiggles’ most embarrassing social shortcoming would only make everybody unhappy—and probably would get Wiggles sent back to the sanctuary.
The family on the phone was very interested in Wiggles, but there was just one problem: They had a cat. Was Wiggles cat tolerant?
“Well,” said Kristi, “we’ll just have to give him a cat test and get back to you.”
In a cat test, a dog has to face a friendly cat and not show any aggressive behavior (which, given the age-old rivalry between canines and felines, is no mean feat). Luckily, there are plenty of cats to go around at Best Friends—Cat World is just up the road from Dogtown. So Betsy Kidder, a caregiver who had been fostering Wiggles at her home for the past few months, drove him up to the cat sanctuary for his feline stress test.
The cat chosen for Wiggles’ test was a small butterscotch-colored male named Piggy, who is very friendly with dogs. Kristi brought him into the room in a small animal carrying crate. Piggy peered out with big eyes as Betsy held Wiggles by his leash five or six feet away. Though he did not know it, Wiggles’ hope for a real home could well rest on this moment.
“He’s just a character—there’s no way to describe him unless you can just see him,” Betsy said to Kristi, regarding Wiggles. “He’s a joy to have at home, he’s hilarious.” Now she was clearly fighting back tears. “He just has a great personality. I love him! If I could keep him, I would. I’ll miss him.”
Kristi, who has long red hair and freckles, knelt on the floor to bring Piggy out of the crate. As Director of Adoption Services, her job is to place the right animals in the right homes for them and their individual needs. It’s a big responsibility, one that Kristi takes very seriously. Part of her job with Wiggles was to help find out what kind of home was the best match for him. If he passed the cat test, then he could be adopted out to a family with cats. If kitties were a problem for Wiggles, then his perfect home would be cat free.
Upon arriving at Dogtown, every dog receives all of his vaccinations, including rabies, as well as testing for Lyme disease and heartworm. Every animal is also spay
ed or neutered before being placed in a run with other animals.
Kristi lifted Piggy out of the crate and onto her lap. Piggy, spotting Wiggles, hissed like a snake. Wiggles lunged forward, straining against the leash. He did not seem hostile or overly aroused, just curious and happy, wagging his tail. But Piggy saw things differently. He lashed out with a paw, smacking the air and hissing in an extremely threatening manner. The two animals’ energies started to feed off each other. Wiggles grew more agitated, jumping forward, barking and excited. Betsy tried to distract him with a dog treat, but he was not interested. He just wanted to get after that cat.
“Hmm,” observed Kristi, “it’s not looking good. Piggy clearly is saying, ‘I don’t feel too comfortable with this dog.’”
But more important, Wiggles didn’t feel comfortable either. And if he couldn’t be distracted away from the cat, it would be a sign that his behavior would be difficult to curb.
So Wiggles, unfortunately, didn’t pass his cat test. His chances for becoming a member of this particular cat-loving family dropped to zero. And now that he needed to find a cat-free home, in addition to one that welcomed his odd disabilities, his odds of ever finding a home at all became even slimmer.
LIFE AS A BIRD DOG?
DogTown Page 24
