Marco (In Loving Memory)

Treeing Walker Coonhound
Picture of Marco (In Loving Memory), a male Treeing Walker Coonhound

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Home:Clovis, NM  [I have a diary!]  
Sex: Male   Weight: 51-100 lbs

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Quick Bio:
-purebred-dog rescue

July 9th 1997

Arrival Story:
It was summer, and I was driving back to Alabama from New Orleans. It was late in the day. The air was hazy and hot. The trees, themselves, seemed to droop from the weight of the sun. I had just crossed the line into Mississippi, glad that the setting sun was to my back. All along the sides of the road and in the middle, the tall green grass and red cattails moved in the wind from the cars. I was taken in by the beauty of that summer day, just looking at the scenery and listening to the radio, when I saw a pale figure moving through the grass in the middle of the road. I knew it was an animal, but because the grass was so high, I couldn't tell what kind it was. As I drove past, I saw that it was a large dog. He was running wildly on three legs. I pulled the car onto the inside shoulder and stopped. It was so scary, because that freeway was very wide and the cars were going so fast. I could feel my own car rock every time another passed by. I think my heart was about to fly out of my chest. I had been traveling with a friend, and he got out, too. The dog was coming right at us, still running blindly. I ran out in front of it, and my friend took off running to get behind it. Because of the height of the grass and the dog's panic, it didn't see us right away. That helped so much. It was almost on top of me before it saw me. It veered like a spooked horse and started running the other way, back toward my friend. He was waiting and took the dog down like a football player. I think I nearly fainted from the fear and the emotion. I stumbled toward the pair who were about twenty feet away from me. My friend had the terrified animal in his arms. All he could say was, "He's been hit. His leg's broken. He's bleeding..." Together, we carried the to the car. My friend crawled into the backseat with the dog, holding it to his chest. I drove on to the next exit, turned around, and drove back to New Orleans, arriving just as the sun set. We pulled into the first vet clinic we could find. ... Two weeks later, I returned to take the dog home. The vet tried to prepare me. He said that the dog (whom my friend had named Marco...after a beautiful song called Marco Polo by Loreena Mckennitt) was still very frightened. He also said that he did the best he could to repair Marco's body. Everyone who worked there was watching me, as I walked back to the room where he was. There, sitting in the corner, with his face to the wall, was a beautiful, blonde coonhound. He didn't respond when we walked into the room. He didn't move. I went to him, letting my hand gently run down his ribcage, which stuck out under his coat. The techs (two of them) turned him around to face me. His chest was coved with lacerations. His right front leg had a steel rod sticking out of it. He hung his head, not letting me see his eyes. I slowly lifted his head, and looked into the saddest, emptiest eyes I had ever seen. One eye had blood in it. I don't remember what I said, if anything. I can still see in my mind's eye three or four techs and the vet half dragging, half carrying Marco to my car. The drive back was five or six hours, and the dog never moved. ... The next few days were some of the hardest of my life. Marco remained unresponsive. He wouldn't walk. He wouldn't respond to touch. He ate, but only when he was completely alone. He was very big and very heavy. When I tried to lift him, he went dead, lifeless, making him so much heavier. He wouldn't go to the bathroom, and it was only when he couldn't hold it anymore that he went...usually that happened when I was trying to carry/drag him outside. Day and night...night and and night...until one day, he jumped over my backyard fence and disappeared forever.

Marco was every homeless dog. Marco was every frightened, starving, and lost dog. Marco was every broken dog. Marco was every forgotten dog. Marco was once someone's pet. Marco was once loved. Marco was the spirit of every dog. How can an innocent animal loose its soul? How can a dog forget how to trust? How can a dog not feel love? Love your dog as much as you can. Remember the dogs who are alone. Give of yourself to help just one. "To save one life is to save the world entire."

Forums Motto:
Remember To Love


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March 10th 2008 More than 8 years!

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With A Little Love

I Was Tagged!

October 17th 2009 3:57 pm
[ Leave A Comment | 1 person already has ]

My pal, Snowden, just tagged me!

Here are the five things mommy most loves about Halloween!! I'm sorry that I can't put what I love. I was hurt very, very badly, and mommy never got to see me smile, or even to see my tail wag ... but my mom and sisters love Halloween very much ... so I'll write for them. :)

1. My sister, Dances With Snow, loves it when the kids ring the doorbell and knock on the door. She thinks it is soooooo exciting to run around and bark just as loud as she can!

2. My mommy loves the memories of childhood ... the clear, crisp fall air, the bright harvest moon, the children laughing, and the feeling of all the good things to come (Thanksgiving, Christmas...)

3. All of my sisters like to get close to mommy on the couch and watch horror movies. Favorites are Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Rocky Horror Picture Show...

4. It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!

5. Mommy's pumpkin patch in the backyard.

Happy Halloween everybody!!!

Now, I'm going to tag five of my friends. :)

Lucy from Greece (51870)
Muffy from Ohio (55190)
Chippy from the Philippeans (82455)
Coffee Bean from Texas (95612)
Candy-O Cootinka from Oklahoma (147747)

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