HamBone's Story

A little more than a year ago we sighted this pitifully frail hound on the property. It was around Thanksgiving and about to get really cold. We put food and fresh water out and started trying to get this skittish boy to come to us. {By this time I had named him HamBone. He was almost Beauregard but I just had a hankering for a HamBone.} He immediately came to the food as long as we weren't too close, he was so timid, but in a matter of days he came to us readily as long as no one else was around. To this day he still doesn't care for anyone else, just John and myself. With us he's playful and happy and carefree. With others he keeps his distance and bays with a bay that would wake the dead. Good watchdog.
Someone had donated some bales of straw and they were on the porch to keep dry. One night he dug into the straw and made a bed so I moved an old igloo house to the porch [ugly and repaired with gorilla glue] to see if he would go in. Thankfully he did and after a few days I decided I needed to get him to the vet, I wanted those family jewels taken care of. I hated to, I knew he would be terrified, but spay and neuter is the name of the game in rescue. I got him in the car, reluctant and scared, and got him to the vet for shots, assessment, neuter, the works and was there the next morning bright and early to pick him up. Well, I guess his spirit was crushed. He showed no recognition, no interest in me whatsoever, and his temperature had dropped dramatically. I think he thought he had found security and then was dumped again. [We have no idea how he got here but we feel like he was dropped off. He's not the type to leave his comfort zone, someone had to bring him here.] The vet had him on a heating pad and wanted to keep him a day or two, it was the hardest thing ever to leave him there but I wanted what was best for him. I called constantly and in a couple of days I just had to bring him home. [Yes, home. I knew this hound was never going anywhere.] On the way here he never looked at me, head hung low, the defeat was heartbreaking. I had moved his house to the other end of the porch to get it away from the west wind blowing in and he slunk into the house and didn't come out for almost three complete days, I thought he was going to die in there. On the day three I continued begging him to come out and I reached in yet again with a handful of wet dog food and this time he licked it. Oh, my heart. He licked it again and then seemingly painfully made it out of the house and finished eating from his bowl. Improvement started. He'd had a tumor on his back removed, benign thankfully, and it healed quickly. His brittle scarce hair thickened and softened. He started filling out and gaining muscle tone. Yes, I overfed him. Yes, I still do and will continue to do so. This old hound will never be hungry as long as I'm around. This is the first part of his story.

Those eyes! Those big beautiful trusting eyes!

 He had a spot under his neck that had been rubbed raw, guessing he was chained with a collar that was too small. Again, only a guess. It's not like that anymore.