This story – and much worse – have happened to many of the dogs in the shelter I boosted Courtney from. And to so many more that never even made it to a rescue. My vet said: I wish I could tell you I haven’t seen this before. And then thanked me for taking care of Courtney, who is full of love, an excellent guard dog, the calmest member of my pack, and who has NEVER had an accident inside – even during his days at the shelter I’m told.

I’m so angry on Courtney’s behalf. I learned new information yesterday about what happened to this boy before getting to me. And I’m beyond frustrated that I cannot see a path to change the mindset and behavior that led to this.

Since adopting River, and then Tank, and then foster failing Courtney (and then Teddy – a story for later), and real fostering Honey Buns, and helping Taz with PT and his time on the outside, and walking Dancer and Domino, and Stanley Going to Washington, and driving 25 dogs to Rhode Island to their forever homes – Every Single One, I’ve so enjoyed seeing the wins in rescue. I’ve also seen and heard about too many things that make me wonder about the humanity of the humans living around me.

This Courtney dog is CHILL. Tony calls him the Rasta. He is absolutely an Ambassador of Zen, with a slight protective streak for his person: me (I do love loyalty in a dog). He heels naturally, and when called, he runs to me with a look of pure joy on his face. This look cannot be bottled or replicated. But it should be, because we would all feel better every single day if we could just see this Courtney joy. Oh, yes, this boy flat out RUNS. Now heartworm free – another indignity he had to endure due to his unfortunate past – he has no idea about his new ailment. The Major General runs like the wind, with abandon, flying fur, and a love filled doggy heart.

And yet this poor dude has a big old tumor. He’s not in pain, but there isn’t much to be done about it – and I certainly would. The good news is, as my vet said: “he has no idea there’s even anything wrong – look at him, he’s happy.” And he really is. But because we did the scans to see what this big bad tumor looked like on my foster fail we could also see… the bullet lodged into his lower back.

SOMEBODY SHOT HIM. For sport, for fun, to kill him? I don’t know. But just look at him. He’s gorgeous. Why would somebody shoot him?? I’m disappointed and sad and mad about the cancer. But I’m furious at the idiot who shot him. Who does that?? How do you get to a place that it makes sense to shoot a dog – and then leave him with the bullet still inside? He’s not the first dog in Mississippi to be shot, and sadly he most certainly won’t be the last. But this is MY dog and I’m angry. There’s a special place in hell for you, shooter.

Despite what seem to be too many reasons to count, Courtney trusts his new humans – and with the exception of needles from vets (and who could blame him said the vet with the needles…) he trusts people and is friendly and loving. So, Major General Courtney Wilson Ludwig von Wolfgang Puck (the longest name I’ve ever conferred) will continue to be taken care of as he has been since he joined our house last summer. We have no idea how long our foster fail has. But for whatever time that is, he shall be with us, have walks – and joyful runs! – for as long as he can, hamburgers, soft furry pets, couches to sleep on, and most importantly safety and reliable people to care for him. It’s the least we humans can do.