My sister saw two dogs running across the street one Saturday morning about a month ago. She recognized them as labs, and knew that the people WAY up the street had labs. At least she thought they did. So she threw on a sweater and run up to their house, thinking that perhaps their dogs had gotten out of a fence or some sort.
She rarely goes to this end of the street, so she hadn't noticed how overgrown the yard was or how run down the house was. As she came up to the front porch, she heard a small dog yapping away inside the house. No lights were on, and no dogs were in the yard. The front porch was covered with crap. I mean, stuff, and dog crap. Everywhere.
She knocked on the door, no answer. She looked to the left and saw a dog crate, latched shut. Two upturned bowls were in the crate. No food, no water. Laying inside the crate, not even lifting his head, was a white boxer puppy, about 4 months old, she thought. The crate was also full of crap. Runny stuff. Flies were crawling all over the puppy.
Ah! She was distressed immediately! What to do!?!?!?!?!
She walked home as fast as she could, trying to think. She called her friend who is affiliated with the boxer rescue. They chatted, and she took her phone/camera back to the house to take pictures of what she was seeing. The puppy was whimpering. It was about 98 degrees in the morning already, and no water. And flies and crap. And locked in the crate.
Once the pictures were sent, there were multiple phone calls with rescue teams, and chatting about options and choices.
Suddenly, filled with fear and determination and bravery, she picked up a towel and RAN to the house, up onto the porch, over to the crate, unlatched the latch, wrapped up the puppy, and RAN HOME!
She carried him into the bathroom and shut the door. She called her friend, who said "you might have to keep him for awhile, like, a day or so, before the rescue teams can take him." My sister, who has three big dogs of her own, said "well, ok, I can just keep him shut in the bathroom."
She gave him a bath, but he would not eat. He drank a few sips of water, but would not bark. He was completely listless, and barely walked. She put peroxide on the fly bites on his ears, and he didn't even flinch.
Slamming car doors got her attention, and carefully closing the bathroom door, she went to the front porch for a look out. A black explorer had pulled up to her gate and four women were jumping out. The boxer rescue team!
Everyone piled into the house, and then into the bathroom. They checked out the puppy and my sister named him Cooper. The rescue team took him away, and my sister hoped that he would be ok.
She cleaned up the bathroom, and the phone rang. Her friend, the lady affiliated with the boxer rescue, said "you saved a dogs life today." She said "well, I hope he finds a good home!" Her friend said "no, I mean you SAVED his LIFE. He never responded to all the care he was getting, so later today we took him to the emergency vet. He has PARVO. He would have been dead by Monday if you hadn't rescued him."
Parvo is deadly and even treated dogs die 50% of the time. The puppy spent a week at the vet, and then an0ther week being treated every day - and he is going to make it!
He was adopted and renamed Aldrich Cooper (?) and the new owner is going to call him Cooper anyway. You can see his update here - http://www.blueridgeboxerrescue.com/aldrichpage.html