Tidewater Afghan Hound Club Rescues
Belle is associated with the French word meaning "Beautiful." A famous bearer was Belle Starr (1848-1889), an outlaw of the American west, whose real given name was Maybelle. To me, the name will always mean Beautiful Black Afghan Hound; sweet, loving, jovial, companion. When she was placed in rescue her original owner had a significant other that beat the dog and it upset her too much to allow this to happen to her little girl. Her foster parent named her Belle Starr and called her Starr because she was beautiful and had a white spot on her chest in the shape of a star. I was contacted by by the Tidewater Afghan Hound Club and happy to include Belle, who was too beautiful to be called after an outlaw, into our home. She rode all the way home on the front seat snuggled close to me so as not to touch the driver, my husband. She was terrified of men and it took weeks before she would allow him to touch her. When he entered the room she was in, she would tremble and look for an escape. I shutter to think what that beautiful little girl had endured. As time went by her fear subsided to the point that her favorite person was my husband. She loved to take her morning run with me every day, as soon as she saw me get my bicycle out she was ready to go! Everyone in the neighborhood knew her and enjoyed greeting her with cookies, of course. Belle shared our home for several years and crossed the Rainbow Bridge January 1, 2004.
Noah is derived from the Hebrew name Noach meaning "rest, comfort." Noah was my first Afghan Hound. He came from the Animal Assistance League in Chesapeake at the age of 9 years with the name Noah. I always loved the appearance of the Afghan Hound and here was an ad in the paper that he was there waiting to be loved. I had no idea what to expect. When I arrived at the shelter, Noah had been shaved down. To quote a neighbor, "he looked like a Chihuahua on stilts." He had sores all over and was missing teeth as well as a piece of his tongue from someone kicking him in the mouth. When I asked his caregiver if we could go somewhere not so noisy to get acquainted, we went outside and I sat down on the ground and Noah did the same facing me. I looked him in the eyes and said, "Noah, would you like to come home with me?" He looked me right back and took a step forward and rested his head on my shoulder. I took that as a yes and he never went back into the shelter again. I opened the door to the car and he jumped right in, sat down and waited for me to pay his bail! When we arrived home he went into the house like he had always lived there, jumped into a big overstuffed chair and that was his spot until he passed away. Through Noah, I learned how smart, clever, full of expression, full of energy and loving the Afghan Hound is. I also learned how to groom and how much he liked to be "handsome." After his bath, he took every precaution to stay clean. He went on long runs/rides with me. I rode the bicycle and he ran along side me 2 miles every day, rain or shine. If he sensed that I was apprehensive about another person or dog, he always put himself in the middle so as to protect me. Noah gave the comfort and earned the rest his name implied. He was the best ambassador for the breed as it wasn't long before he had housemates who were also rescues. Noah passed in 1998 at the age of 14 years.
Butler was named for Rhett Butler of Gone With the Wind fame. He was my RUNNER! He came to me through the Tidewater Afghan Hound Club when he was a year to year and a half old. He came from the Front Royale, Virginia Animal Shelter. He was very active and LOVED TO RUN! Noah, had become too old to make a two mile run and Dunkin was not about to run, but Butler would run twice a day for that distance and looked for more. I would take the boys for a walk when the weather was hot and all the kids in the area would come to see them. I felt like the ice cream vendor the way they would come running to see the boys. Noah, Dunkin and Butler were truly the Three Musketeers. One serious, and all business doing his job to protect (Noah), one a clown (Dunkin) and one always ready for adventure (Butler). Unknown to his rescuers, Butler had been in an accident before he came to me and as his body matured, his ill treated injuries became apparent. He had sustained hairline fractures to the bones in his neck and back which one morning when we usually went running, he could not move becuse he was in such pain. The vet said he could operate but IF Butler survived the surgery, he could NEVER run again. If Butler couldn't run he couldn't be Butler. Butler joined Noah across the rainbow bridge when he was only 3 years old.
Dunkin was named for where he was found: lost and searching for food behind a Dunkin Donutes in Northern Virginia. He was placed with me through the Tidewater Afghan Hound Club. He and Noah were best friends. Where ever Noah went, Dunkin was right there at his side. Dunkin, however, wanted no part of running. He was perfectly content to be a total couch potato. He loved the neighborhood kids. They used to call him the "funny one" of the Three Musketeers. I truly believe he missed Noah and Butler because his health went downhill dramatically after Noath and then Butler (very suddenly) crossed the Rainbow Bridge. He seemed to improve when Belle came to us, but he never seemed to have the spark he had with Noah. Dunkin passed away at the age of 10 years.
Rocky was spotted by a lady trucker in Georgia tied to a tree in the front yard of a house with a sign that said "Free Dog." She has been known to rescue various animals and Rocky's poor condition could be seen from quite a distance away. She stopped and asked why he was giving the dog away and was told "Dawg is too old to breed anymore." Upon further investigation by our trucker heroine it appeared that this was a small time puppymill operation. She immediately took the emaciated Rocky home to her mother's house in Western Virginia. Her mother was caring for several other dogs that our heroine had brought home and Rocky in his condition was over the limit.
National got a call from the mom, who in turn called Tidewater Afghan Hound Club. Although this was far outside our territory there seemed to be no one else, so off to the resuce of the rescuers! Rocky was so sweet and patient. A very gentle and grateful soul. There were many people clamoring for him but, he couldn't be placed until he gained enough weight to be neutered. It took 6 months for him to gain enough that the vet was satisfied.
Rocky has a wonderful forever home and is much cherished by his new mom and family.
I got a call on a Friday night one August... it seemed that the Mongomery County Maryland animal shelter had called a rescue person with a 9 month old Afghan Hound in big time emotional distress ("frightened out of his skin"..direct quote from shelter workers). His wonderful owner had turned him in...claimed he jumped a 6 foot fence (then said "gets out of " 6 foot fence on the bottom of the turn in form).
I spent 10 1/2 hours on the road the next morning to go get this little guy. 3 hours up and 6 1/2 back...you know, I-95. . .can't say enough about it!
He was a wonderful little dog...shy, sweet, well mannered..he was even half way groomed! He was easily worth 24 hours on the road. Black masked/black and tan. My husband was in love with him before we got to our foster's home. She loves him too! He got along with everybody and everything (cats, kids, etc). Okay..she lost one shoe to him. However, a "kennel" environment scared the heck out of him. He was shaking so hard when I picked him up that I didn't think his little legs were going to stay under him...the very minute we walked out the door into the grass ..his head came up and he was a different dog. They told me he would not walk on a leash, I did not find that to be true. However, he would not walk near a car. I think from his reaction to the front end of a car that he must have come very close to getting hit. He RODE in a car great.
Whoever got this guy I really wanted to be perfect for him! He needed a little company . He seemed to be at that stage where emotionally he could be ruined fairly easily. I guess you could call it "needy" ... he didn't want to be alone. Well, he was a baby after all. He loved for the momma cat to wash his face if that tells you anything about his personality. It was another state a good way from Tidewater but I was not about to let a frightened puppy wait in that shelter any longer than I had to.
I'd do it again in a minute. :>)
Halo was placed with a Veterinarian and he goes to work every day. He has plently of company now!
At two years old, the dog did not have a name. He was closed in a run with his brother for company. He had an airline kennel for his only shelter that he shared with his brother. Storms were VERY scary things out in the wooded area where their kennel was located. A lady came once a day and threw some food in for he and his brother to wrestle over...she was a busy lady, she had LOTS of dogs. Because she was such a busy lady, bathing and brushing was not an option for all the dogs, and so, the dog with no name never got bathed or brushed.
Then one day came the fire. The lady was not home when some bad wiring caught fire, gutting the house. Unfortunately, there were some animals in the house and they did not make it. So the dog with no name and quite a few others were lucky. The firemen did not know that the dog with no name didn't know people...and they opened the door to the run. SEVERAL hours later the firemen managed to catch him. By this time the local newspaper had time to get a photographer and a reporter on the scene and the following day a picture and story appeared in "The Daily Press" (June 19, 1993).
Enter the local Afghan Hound Rescue Organization. Actually, she was on the scene before the firemen left, wondering just where she was going to foster all those dogs. I saw the story and picture in the newspaper the next day and called Claudia to ask if she knew anything about this, and, if I could be of some help. She asked if I could "foster" one of the dogs until a permanent home could be found. I said "Yes".
The minute I saw him I knew that this dog would never leave me to live with another family. When he came to me out of his kennel in the woods he weighed 42 pounds, and he was ONE GIANT MAT! He also was covered in ticks, this resulted in him being shaved naked...all the way to the skin! Being "shorn" he then received his call name of "Sampson" (I know that the "P" does not belong in there but HE liked the sound with it..who was I to argue?). There IS such a thing as "OVERKILL" and in attempting to teach a 2 year old dog with no name what "his" name was, I repeated it to him often, always with lots of love and playfulness....he then began to believe that his name was not just "Sampson", but that it was "Sampson-Sampson"! Never the less he knows that's who he is!
Sampson came to me as a frightened, traumatized 2 year old. He had absolutely NO confidence. He was frightened of EVERYBODY (myself included) and EVERYTHING, thunderstorms were the worst..you could hear his kennel shaking at the other end of the house and I could not even physically get him out of the kennel to comfort him! Since that time he has "rescued" me from a burglar and become my most faithful protector. He now has NO fear of ANYBODY or ANYTHING! He sleeps through thunderstorms where ever he happens to be in the house without so much as blinking an eye! Not only is he an excellent example of "The King of Dogs", an awesome dog to see....an Afghan Hound; but, he also is a fine example of temperament and of how a little kindness and a LOT of love can turn neglect into beauty.
I can say with certainty that Sampson TRULY LOVED ME and I loved him VERY MUCH!
A follow-up story on Sampson appeared in "The Daily Press" May 18, 1998. On May 25th the following week, Sampson took "Winners Dog" at the Virginia Beach Kennel Club Show in Jamestown Virginia, and is now pointed!
I lost Sampson December 27th 1999