Duffy to the Rescue (The Duffy Dombrowski Mysteries)

by Tom Schreck

  “Alright Duff, you know the new rules. Other end of the bar and set up the stools,” AJ said and gave me the raised eyebrow look.

  I sighed hard but did what he said. Al wasn’t pleased moving from his spot and I had to tug almost as hard as did to get him out of agility class. He relented, and positioned himself behind the legs of the two stools AJ forced me to set up on the far end of the bar. Al looked through the bars of prison and his expression told me he wasn’t happy. I could almost hear Bob Dylan singing that ballad about Hurricane Carter.

  Fortunately, before I could channel Nelson Mandela, TC had a point to make.

  “I’m telling you, it came off during a TV special,” TC said. He was referring to Michael Jackson’s nose.

  “Huh?” Jerry Number one said.

  “He was doing that dance of his, the one named after the cow. What’s it called?” TC said.

  The rest of the Foursome, Kelley and I all stared at him.

  “The Moo Dance… No, that ain’t it. The Moo Move, nah…what the hell is it?” TC was looking straight up and chewing on the knuckle of his right index finger. “He’d slide backwards, kinda like a cow I guess.”

  No one broke their stare.

  “Like this…”

  TC turned around and began to try to slide backward into what I figured out must’ve been his version of the “Moo Walk.”

  He wasn’t watching where he was going however and bumped into Rocco. Rocco fell of his chair and into Jerry Number one who went backward off his stool. There was a lot of yelling, crashing and breaking of glass and Kelley and I jumped up to help. AJ ran around from the back of the bar yelling “Jesus H. Christ!” which was what he yelled in times of severe stress.

  Rocco held his head, Jerry cracked his shins and TC was now hopping up and down on one foot holding the other.

  “My fucking corns!”

  This was a Quentin Tarantino/David Lynch lovechild of a movie playing out in a real time. Al started to bark and for a moment he diverted the bar’s attention. Everyone turned in Al’s direction.

  He nosed the chair to his right forward about two inches. Then he did a side-to-side thing with his nose to make the space between the two chairs wider. Next, he stood up on his hind legs and pushed. The space in the chairs was now about a foot.

  Al dropped down to all fours and seemed to take a deep breath.

  He lunged forward like one of those funny cars at a drag strip. He went around TC like a downhill skier, bounded over Rocco in full stride and, as Jerry was righting himself, he slid down low and went through his legs.

  He headed straight for the two barstools and leaped sideways into them like Steve McQueen in The Great escape, toppling them over. Then he climbed up one of the fallen chairs and leaped over AJ’s new kitchen barrier where he could be heard salivating, gulping and swallowing ground beef.

  “Moo walk!” TC yelled. “That’s it, the Moo Walk!” He said.

  Kelley just looked at me. He didn’t say anything for a long time. We could still hear Al chewing in the back.

  “Did you stay for any of the class?” He said.

  * * *

  All Bassets cherished

  In New York and everywhere.

  Doc’s spirit lives on.

  —Ginny Tata-Phillips

  Photo: Doc by Shelly Gordon

  * * *

  Rescue Organization: All Bassets Cherished—New York

  By Tom

  I live in New York and I’m a bit partial to my home state Basset rescue, All Bassets Cherished.

  Why?

  Well, because they’re nuts.

  They’re nuts in that insane way they love Basset Hounds and the extent they’ll go to save one or, uh, 34.

  A couple of years ago they got a call from a fellow rescuer in Arkansas. Phil Guinn had gotten word that one of the scumbag puppy millers was getting out of the business. The problem was he had 11 hounds left and if Phil didn’t come get them in a week the guy promised to “take care of them.”

  We know what that means.

  Running a rescue organization in a state that permits puppy mills is hell. There’s never enough room, money or help. Phil got on the phone and called around. His prayers were answered when he reached New York and got Gary Penney, ABC’s president.

  In no time 11 foster homes were arranged and three ABC whackos were in trucks and vans on their way to Arkansas. Sure, Buffalo to Arkansas in a van—what’s the problem?

  They rounded up the “Arkansas 11” and got them to the vet where they wrote a check for three grand. Then they headed back to Buffalo where there just happened to be an ABC picnic that weekend.

  Imagine for a moment being a Basset Hound. You’re stuck in a pen, filthy, flea bitten and neglected. Then one day three folks show up you don’t know and they place you in a truck. You drive forever which isn’t all that much fun but then you stop.

  When you get out you’re in a park with tons of other Basset Hounds. These guys aren’t in pens, there are no fleas and clearly, they all eat pretty good. There are games, special Basset cookies and treats and some of the wacky people even have hats and outfits on their hounds.

  Can you imagine what that would feel like? It would be heaven (except for maybe the costume part).

  The Arkansas 11 went to foster homes and then they all got adopted. Right now they’re undoubtedly ignoring their human slaves, plotting their next counter surf and thinking about chasing the family cat. In other words they’re being Basset Hounds.

  And as for the puppy mill guy? Well, in my book he doesn’t deserve to be called a son of a bitch.

  In 2009 ABC got a few calls and all at once. An Iowa puppy miller got busted and 11 hounds needed rescue. Then, someone in Missouri had 8 dogs that needed help. Finally another Ozark distress signal came, this time 15 female “breeder” Bassets were homeless. That’s 34 dogs—in a week.

  ABC said yes.

  Because that’s what they do. And because they’re nuts.

  The hounds all went from their deplorable conditions to vets. ABC found a way to write checks for $6,000. The dogs were on their way to the Empire State.

  The “Home for the Howlidays” project came together. The Boom Town Canine Center helped out with lodging for the homeless hounds. The ABCers kept a running blog complete with three different news stories letting everyone know about the situation.

  At the first adoption event they held 12 Bassets got adopted in two hours. That’s a hound every ten minutes, which I think is a goal we should all set. Since then all have found homes.

  Do you have any idea how much work is involved for this kind of thing? Well, if you work in a rescue group you know EXACTLY how much.

  Thank God for nuts.

  * * *

  Lace ear, Frito feet;

  the look and the smell of these

  dogs touches my heart.

  —Ginny Tata-Phillips

  Photo: Noah & Holly by Margaret Honnold

  * * *

  Duffy Dog of the Week: Bob

  By Tom

  Bob was adopted at age three. His forever home is with Bob and Kathy Nali in Tacoma, Washington.

  Right away Bob set out to raise money for Basset Hound rescue organizations. He was the 2008 King of the Michigan Waddle, he’s been the Grand Marshall of the Oregon Basset Hound Rescue Waddle and he’s raised money through various fundraisers like The Chick Magnut, the Drool Playing Cards and Bob’s Basset Butts.

  All of that would’ve been enough to earn Duffy Dog of the Week but then Bob added a huge treat bone of inspiration.

  On November 11, 2009. Bob’s back legs went lame. It was his 11th birthday.

  The vet said it didn’t look good and a very painful and intense surgery was needed. It was highly likely Bob would never walk again.

  Bob couldn’t use his back legs but it didn’t affect his mood. He kept playing, his tail kept wagging and he kept training.

  He trained a lot.

  He got fitted for a set of whe
els and he kept those lame legs moving.

  On February 10, 2010, an eleven year-old Bob did this:

  Step One

  Step Two

  Step Three and “Get The Hell Out of My Way!”

  That’s right, Bob’s back walking.

  * * *

  Determination:

  my name is Basset Hound and

  I can reach great heights.

  —Ginny Tata-Phillips

  Photo: Tyler Cruse

  * * *

  Guardian Angel Basset Rescue—Illinois/Indiana

  Just A Matter of the Right Luck…and a Whole Lotta Love

  By Tom

  Ben is a tri-color Basset Hound.

  A few years back he was hit by a car and his back legs were paralyzed. His owners left him to die on the side of the road. He couldn’t feel his legs and as he continued to walk with his front legs the cuts and scrapes on his paralyzed legs got infected.

  That’s not good luck.

  Did I mention this was in Taiwan?

  Someone picked up Ben and brought him to the local “shelter” in Taiwan that was an airplane hangar with 1300 other dogs. Ben was paralyzed and he’s predominantly the color black, which is considered unlucky to the Chinese. There was little hope of Ben getting adopted.

  That’s not good luck.

  Enter Julia Simmonds. She is a vet tech who helps train other vet techs to go overseas to help the animals in other countries. One of her former trainees, Laura, wound up in Taiwan. She called Julia and told her about Ben.

  Laura treated Ben and stopped the leg infection, which saved his life. Then with Julia’s help they tried to find a rescue organization in the US or Canada to take Ben.

  It was looking impossible.

  That’s when Ben’s luck started to change.

  Laura and Julia found Guardian Angel Basset Rescue (GABR). Pictures and updates went back and forth. Larry Little, GABR’s president, reached out to Micky Manos, a Basset foster parent who had some experience with paralyzed dogs. Mickey said she would take him.

  Now, there was a problem. A dog just can’t fly out of China on his own. He has to be accompanied by his owner. In five days they got a kind soul to tell a little fib. Ben was on his way to Chicago.

  No one was really sure about the paperwork or any of the other red tape that was required. Ben was airborne and headed to the windy city.

  And so were Larry and his wife Emmy and board member David Raphael.

  Sure, they didn’t know what to expect. Sure, they didn’t know what they were getting into. Sure, this whole thing could’ve been a real bureaucratic mess.

  But this is GABR.

  This is about Basset Hounds.

  Everything else comes in a distant second.

  They heard him before they saw him. He burst through the doors and wanted to play and he had three playmates who wanted to play just as much.

  But he’s paralyzed? How could he be so happy?

  Excuse me, this is a Basset Hound we’re talking about.

  The next stop on Ben’s trip was to Dr. Lou Cronin’s. Dr. Lou and all his staff looked on slack-jawed as they watched Ben dash across the office dragging his back legs. In a few weeks the custom cart came and it was off to the races.

  Of course, Ben isn’t the only hound that GABR has helped. In fact there have been close to 4,000 in the last 10 years. Last year they paid their millionth dollar in vet bills. They own their own park for their annual waddle and every year they raffle off a vintage Corvette.

  In other words, they don’t fool around.

  Carol Boudreau is the intake coordinator for GABR and she told me a story that kind of summed up what these folks are all about. Once in awhile a rescue group gets called about a pregnant female. The whelping process isn’t an easy one and you really have to know what you’re doing. At GABR a woman named Sharon Andrews was the designated whelper.

  Carol knew GABR could use another whelper.

  “I had spoken to several people about the feasibility of me being the other home. I work from home and can manage most situations with some guidance so I thought I could handle it. If I had any idea, well, as they say ‘Pride goeth before the fall,” Carol said.

  Turns out, a few years ago, a pregnant female named Keiko was coming into GABR and Carol took it as a sign that this was for her. Carol got Sharon to help her and support from Jean Dietrich, Elisa Parenti and her husband David to pitch in. What Carol didn’t realize was the Keiko had gone into labor and everything was happening—Now!

  Sharon lives three hours away and she packed a bag. She would pick up Keiko and deliver her to Carol and stay until after the puppies were born. A website whelping box picture was handed to David with the assignment to have it done—in four hours. Jean and Elisa were on stand by, supplies were purchased and a vet was located.

  Then they all waited.

  For two days.

  On January 2 at 4:00 am Louis was born.

  Then Halle, Fisher, Heathcliff, Ty and Denzel.

  Four and half hours later Sidney came into the world—backward.

  Finally, five and half hours Keiko gave birth to Izzie.

  “Everyone was breathing and crying and looking for Mom. Mom was still trying to figure out what happened. It was her first litter and she had just celebrated her 1-year birthday the week before. The whelping went well in that we did not have any real problems with any of the puppies. Keiko was a different story,” Carol said.

  It seems as though Keiko, barely a year old herself, wasn’t quite ready for motherhood. She was determined to have all of these babies pushed into the furthest corner of the room with Sharon and Carol practically standing on our heads trying to reach the puppies as they were being born.

  “She tried to bury the first 3 babies and wasn’t really interested in any of them. But we pampered Keiko as much as we could: in-between puppies Keiko drank water and ate yogurt and pound cake and anything else she wanted that we could get into her. It was a very messy, difficult and stressful six hours,” Carol said.

  That night a little champagne was sipped thanks to Jean and Elisa but Carol had an important request. She wanted the puppies to be a secret except for a few people. Only a couple of months previous GABR had lost six puppies to Parvo and no one wanted to go through that anguish again. That was especially important because like lots of rescued dogs, Keiko had received all her inoculations. For the first two or three weeks they needed to be watched 24 hours a day.

  Along the way the way there were a couple of scares. Two and half weeks in Denzel had a 101.4 temperature and he was getting dehydrated. His gums were dry and he didn’t look good.

  “David held Denzel while I hydrated him. This poor puppy was crying out in pain while I continued to inject him with saline to hydrate him. The needle was longer than he was wide. My heart ached for him. There was nothing else I could do for him at this point,” Carol said.

  All the tests came back negative and after a few, long sleepless nights Denzel was himself again.

  On February 12, the six-week coming out party was held. Dr. Lou and his wife Lynne, Larry and Emmy, Jean, Elisa and Jerry, David and Carol all celebrated as Dr. Lou declared they were all in good health and gave them their first inoculation.

  “Keiko and her puppies were brilliant! The night was very successful. I was so proud of the puppies, Dr Cronin and the rescue for having managed this miracle. Friday, Pastor Ron Pearson came over and blessed the puppies. Now we could announce them to the rescue,” Carol said.

  It was time for fostering until forever homes would be found. Sharon took three of the hounds to foster, Emmy and Larry got two and Jean and Elisa got three. Kay and Marshall took Keiko, Carol’s constant companion for the last eight weeks.

  “It was hard to watch her go,” Carol said.

  Eight weeks, eight puppies, sleepless nights and lives turned upside down for the benefit of Basset Hounds. This is the life of rescue workers. You don’t see what they do or what they go through an
d you have to live the life to fully appreciate it.

  As for Carol and her idea of taking this on? She’ll say she was nuts, insane and misguided. She’ll shake her head and roll her eyes.

  And I’ll say thank God for the nutty, insane and misguided rescue people.

  Carol had this to say about the process.

  “I set out to do a logical and necessary thing; whelping these puppies and caring for them until they reached the age that they could go into the world. But in the process, I have been changed. Each time I do an intake, it is for a Basset that is homeless, unwanted, unloved, beaten, or made redundant. In the rescue we take these dogs that are affected, that know the unkindness of man and we try to make up for that failing. We look after these hounds, train them, love them, and try when possible to find them forever homes.

  In this case, we were given the responsibility to care for eight puppies that are completely unmarred by man. Up to the day they are each adopted out, we are responsible to provide proper nutrition, medical and general care, and socialization. We are the first humans to have an impact on these eight little lives. What a huge responsibility and privilege. I have such great pride in the rescue and in the people who worked with me. We have had the rare opportunity in a rescue to work with a dog that did not require medical intervention or re-habilitation but simply the right start. It is really a pleasure to see 8 fat little bellies on 8 very sociable normal healthy puppies. It is truly a thrill to be a part of the process that got them to this point. I thank David, Sharon, Jean, Elisa, Dr. Cronin and GABR.”