Oh, Yes!  The Joy of Springtime . . .
Spring, 2000

Oh, yes, what beautiful weather we're having!  And, boy, do all 225 dogs here love it!  Running, jumping, and cavorting--you have never, ever seen anything like this before!  I really do believe that Springtime is their very favorite time of the year!  If it's not--you surely could have fooled me.

Over there, stretched out "snoozing" under the cool, spreading shade of the leafy poplar tree--by the sparkling, bubbling brook--lies Dagwood, Fuschia, Lawrence, Giselle, Ebb, and Gertie; talk about "taking it easy."  And, over there, chasing each other around the yard in another compound, playing "tag", are the recently rescued puppies Muffin, Fur Ball, Stubby, Blue-Eyed Boy, Flopsie, and their mother, Marissa.  Whoops!  Now they're all on the ground tumbling around and wrestling.  Where do they get all of that exuberant energy?  I'll never know!  What I do know is that no doubt they're having a much better time now than before--when they were all living underneath that old, abandoned and dilapidated house out in the middle of nowhere--surviving on very little else except the will and determination to live.  Truly, it's a good thing The Trixie Foundation heard of their plight and made a point of doing something about it.  Too, as many of the older dogs here have known security for a very long time--some are more "laid back" and just as contented to watch the activity as participate in it.  And believe me--there's always plenty of activity here--not to mention happy, entertained canine "spectators" observing the whole thing!

And then, over there, curled up asleep all by herself is "Sweet Thing"; her name assuredly says it all.  She's just so very timid and gentle.  There never was a more friendly, loving "muttly" hound dog--and one that was more grateful for the love and affection bestowed upon her here.  I remember the very day I received the telephone call from the county social worker almost a year ago telling me about the dog's plight.  It seems that while she was out calling upon a client who happened to live in the middle of the "boonies," she, by sheer chance, happened upon this helpless, old, thin and withered, tan hound dog.  From what the social worker said, "Sweet Thing" was standing at the top of a hill, next to a gravel road leading to an abandoned coal mine site--surrounded by her tiny, malnourished babies.  They had all been abandoned and left to fend for themselves several days before--as she was soon to find out from an unconcerned resident down the road.  She told me how the sight of all those listless, hungry dogs, sniffing, scratching and pawing in the gravel for anything at all to eat just broke her heart.  What kind of person could do this to such pitiful, loving animals?  As it came to pass--after she called me and told me about the situation--I immediately made arrangements for one of the people working here to go an rescue the starving dogs.  However, by the time our "rescuer" reached his destination, just a couple of hours later, the resident down the road said that someone else had come only minutes before him and had gathered up all of the puppies and taken them away.  This same uncaring individual also told our rescuer how he witnessed the mother dog running--running with every ounce of energy that she could muster--chasing after the car that held her crying, yelping puppies--frantically barking at the "top of her lungs" for it to stop--before finally, resignedly returning to her original site of abandonment, to lie down--to grieve by herself for the precious babies that she had nourished, loved, and protected for so long--and would now never, ever see again.  Why?  Why did they not take her along, too?

Since that sad and fateful day not so many months ago, "Sweet Thing" has gradually adjusted to her new home and family here at The Trixie Foundation.  Once again, she's happy.  And I know she's secure and well taken care of.  But, every now and then, I'll catch her wistfully gazing upon Marissa and her puppies as they run and play and chase each other around the compound, and wonder to myself if in the back of her longing memory, she remembers another Springtime--and a different place.  A place where she once happily ran, played, and wrestled in the grass with her own small, devoted pups--before their abandonment.  Ah, yes, the joy of Springtime. . . .

Randy Skaggs, Founder