Clochard - Rescue at the last minute

11/22/1999

At the end of summer 1999, I learned that she the owner of Clochard had divorced in the spring: she was moving out, leaving the dog with her ex because she was now living in an apartment and had to work full-time. He was a shift worker and preferred to live at his girlfriend's apartment. And then, in mid-November 1999, I learned that Clochard was left behind—locked in the house where he grew up, with no access to the garden - alone for up to 16 hours a day.

On November 12, 1999, I learned that Clochard was being advertised in a newspaper - he was being given away. The fact that I had stipulated a right of first refusal on all my offspring in the purchase agreement, and that I was to be notified immediately if the dog was to be given away, was simply ignored. The phone lines were ringing off the hook for a while - after about three hours, I found a new home for Clochard. Now I called the current owner. I told him what I had heard and learned that there were already several people interested in adopting Clochard. I announced that I've found a new home for the dog - he wants to sleep on it, he needs a few more days to think it over. I have to be diplomatic and stay calm, otherwise Clochard will end up somewhere and I'll never know.

Four agonizingly long days, then the phone call from him on November 16^th: He thinks he might warm to my proposal if the price is right. No matter what, I'll pay anything as long as the dog gets out of there. I'll pick up Clochard myself. When? He says he can't make it until Thursday because of his shift work; his daughter will be with him then. Monday or Tuesday? I decide for Monday; the sooner the better. All the while, I'm afraid something will come up; the days are endless - anxious waiting.

Finally, it's November 22^nd. I drive to the agreed meeting point, a highway rest stop. I arrive much too early, but better to wait than be late. He finally arrives, somewhat late. Clochard's greeting is overwhelming; we haven't seen each other since August 1998. We quickly take care of the formalities: the pedigree is there, but not the vaccination certificate - he hasn't been able to find it for months, but the dog is vaccinated; I get him to sign a confirmation - and hand over the money. I rush out to the car and load Clochard's things. He sniffs the dog crate briefly and is already inside. I close the tailgate - let's get out of here, onto the motorway. As soon as I arrive, I call the new owners: everything's okay, I have the dog with me. They'll meet me. So, off I go on the West highwy to Vienna and then onto the South highway towards Clochard's new home. The little guy is completely calm in the car, only occasionally glancing around to see what's going on. It's only at the meeting point, where I'm to meet the new owners (another motorway service station), that I realize Clochard's condition. The tears are unstoppable - "my baby" doesn't deserve this. Yes, I know there are far more tragic cases, but what else but emptiness can a loving breeder feel at such a sight? Everything is called into question in that moment – ​​is it worth it? Can a breeder be responsible for something like this? Should I stop breeding? ....... Questions upon questions, and accusations too. .....

While I wait for Clochard's new owners, I take him for walks, play with him, and cuddle him. He's so grateful—these are moments I'll never forget. Then his new owners arrive. At first, Clochard is reserved, sitting down next to me and looking at me, as if asking, "What's this all about?" The ice is quickly broken - I have treats, and Clochard is easily bribed. Now he's even walking on a leash with his new owner. Things are looking good, but now we're taking a break - off to the restaurant. There, Clochard lies alternately between his new people and me, keeping a watchful eye on everything, and again and again I see that loving look from him - and a gentle wag of his tail. I almost smother him with my affection, but I can't help myself - his eyes seem to be begging for it. Now the new owner, a veterinarian, is examining him, and now - as far as one can quickly determine outside a veterinary clinic - almost the full extent of Clochard's condition is coming to light. All three of us are shocked - this dog had been completely neglected for a long time. The veterinarian believes that psychological damage would have appeared within two to three months at the most- it was a close call!

The photos from November 22^nd, 1999, in Clochard's slideshow partly show his pitiful condition. Let's start with the "minor" issues and work our way up to the more serious ones: His fur is dull, shaved to about 5 cm in length, and severely matted away from the skin - all over his body. His breath is barely noticeable. He has no muscle anywhere on his body, not even a jaw muscle. His head is nothing but bone, and that's exactly what you feel all over Clochard's body: his shoulder blades, every single bone of his spine, all his ribs, his hip bones - simply every single bone - without a single gram of "substance." Clochard is nothing more than a walking skeleton, held together only by his skin. Based on his bone structure, proportions, and size, Clochard would be the spitting image of a 40 to 45 kg male dog (he is the spitting image of his father  Samson)—he weighs a mere 28 kg, less than his smaller mother Yazoo. His stool is less than that of an 8-week-old Briard puppy, and his urine is brown, indicating prolonged dehydration. A case for animal welfare! It later turns out that due to malnutrition during his growth, some of his bones are deformed.

Clochard seems to be mentally sound  FOR NOW. He has blind trust in people who are well-disposed towards him. His eyes still have that lively sparkle, his gaze expressing an incredible longing for love. If you respond to it, he thanks you with a joy that gives no hint of what Clochard has been through in recent months. It's time – we have to move on.

Report the next day:

Everything went better than we all expected. The two dogs already living in the house were taken for a walk so that Clochard could inspect his new home in peace and eat his first meal (when was the last time he had one, I wonder???) in peace. Then the meeting: At first, Clochard doesn't understand that there are other dogs there – he's possessive; he has to protect HIS people. He only needs to be told once that the other two dogs also live here – and he accepts it. All three sleep in the same room – and it's quiet. The next morning: all three are playing in the garden, Xenia and the two brothers, Clochard and Esprit. :-) Only when Esprit gets too boisterous while Clochard wants to be left alone does he give a soft growl – the little brother understands and accepts it. So, there's another puppy from the C-litter in Edith and Michael's house after all.

Clochard's terrible separation anxiety seems to make things easier: no problems on walks – he's been off-leash from day one. In the house, he needs to see one of his humans; then he's content. Even at his mealtimes, he wants to see one of his humans, otherwise he immediately leaves the food bowl. But otherwise, Clochard already trusts his humans completely. And to top it all off, he's allowed to go everywhere with them, even if it's just a very short trip – Clochard HAS to be there, that's the most important thing right now. Another important point: he's fed small portions several times a day – his stomach needs to readjust slowly, and building up his body will also take some time, as Clochard has absolutely no stamina. How could he – completely lacking in muscle...? Soon Clochard will look the way he should at his age. Where better to care for him than in the hands of a veterinarian?!

But in the end, it WASN'T: He, too, was run over by his owner – just like his brother Chivas Regal. I'll never understand it. Didn't the man learn from having already killed a dog with his car? Doesn't such a terrible experience teach you to check several times whether a dog is near, behind, in front of, or under the car? What have I done to these two puppies? ......