Several weeks after the April 27 tornado when I lived in Tuscaloosa my friend Kristen and I decided to take a weekend getaway to the beach. We needed a break from the broken reality we were experiencing-- our town was destroyed, all radio stations were in emergency broadcast mode and everything was a story of destruction, usually with a side of an uplifting emotional journey.
(Picture- Maggy several days after I rescued her, May 2011)
And we needed out.
On our way back to Tuscaloosa after a weekend in the Florida Panhandle with fictional identities (totally not lying- we made stories of who we were so we wouldn't have to talk about what we'd run away from for just 1 weekend), we were cruising along a country highway from Florida into Alabama when we noticed a wee little pup running in a field just off to the right. We both said 'PUPPY!!!!' and Kristen quickly turned the car around to get to the little fur ball running with reckless abandon.
This little beagle looking creature, with scars on her head, shoulder and neck came excitedly barreling to us, but never let us touch her. We lured her with Chex Mix and while she was scarfing down the food, I threw my beach towel over her, we scooped her up and never looked back.
I called my loving roommates Jessi & Jeff and said 'uhm, please don't kick me out. I'm bringing home a puppy I found on the side of the road. I can't take her to the shelter, they're already over-run.' Little did I know that Jessi had gone and rescued a puppy who had been displaced from the tornado of her own while I was gone. (Ladi was supposed to be a foster, but we all knew that wasn't how the story was going to do)
Until I could get this little one to a doctor to be checked out (we weren't sure if she was well or not and didn't want to have her spread anything to our other animals), we made a home for her in the garage. She mostly hid out of pure terror and fear, but when I would call 'little girl' she'd come to me but not all the way.
It was clear to me, not only from her scars, but from her actions, that she had been abused. It took a long time to earn her trust, but now it is undying and true. I wasn't looking for a dog- too much commitment in my life- but someone knew that having this little one would be good for me.
Magnolia Jane earned her name from being a strong southern-rooted female. Who knows how long this 3-month old pup had been out on her own, or what she had experienced, but she was strong, beautiful and going to survive.
Now, almost 3 years later from her rescue date, I sit here on my couch, typing this, with her head next to my thigh hearing a whimper of 'Mom... can I PLEASE have dinner now?' She's incredibly aggravating- sometimes acting out and being destructive for reasons I can't understand... like peeing on my bed or chewing up items I needed. Sometimes her enthusiasm is exhausting- the talking, the jumping and making insane loops around the home at high speeds.
But there isn't a day I'm not thankful for this little lowrider. 6-inch legs, the longest torso, hound dog eyes and howl and a personality way bigger than her 20 pound body what makes me smile more times than I can count. The way she chases her kitty sister around and licks her and wants to be close is endearing. Her hatred of rain but love of snow is confusing. And her manner of throwing herself at men's feet will never cease to amaze me.
This is just the beginning of the story of Magnolia Jane... but I can tell you already, it's bound to be a bestseller.
(Maggy on her 3rd birthday, February 2, 2014)
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