Ozzie

sex: male
born: April 2002~
birth place: Arkansas

deceased: 20 April 2004

given sanctuary: 06 October 2002
(story written by foster caretaker)

Ozzie's Memorial

On April 20, 2004, it was time for general exams and vaccinations to be given. Unfortunately, this required all 3 of the animals to be darted. One of the vets and Wolf staff members went to the foster home for the procedures, as the cofounders were busy caring for a dying animal at the sanctuary. Noel and Tonka’s exams went off without a hitch. Ozzie was tough, and had to be darted twice before going down. This process took so long, once the exam was over and the reversal was given, the vet and staff member had to rush off to Wolf to euthanize another animal.

Ozzie was left in the capable hands of his foster parents, but he was not waking up from the drugs. The foster mom did not know what to do, and was afraid to call Wolf during the loss of the other animal, Shaka. She stayed next to Ozzie, keeping him comfortable and encouraging him to awake. But he never did. Shortly before midnight, Ozzie stopped breathing. He passed silently from this world to the next. Wolf was notified the next day, and the news was not easy to bear. We all miss Ozzie terribly, and know he has finally found the peace and dignity he deserves.

Ozzie's Story

I received an email from Frank with accompanying photos showing two scared and skinny wolf-dogs in small cell blocks, their faces turned to the corners, their eyes downcast. They and a third, still at large, were in need of immediate placement. “What do you think?” Frank’s email had read. What a dumb question! And we waited, anxious, nervous, but this time with a little bit of knowledge to our credit. When the truck arrived and we opened the tailgate, the three sweet faces told the same story of abuse, neglect, and dejection as had our first pack the year before.

Tonka, Noel, and Ozark (but always called Ozzie) were their names, bestowed upon them during the trip to Colorado by Wolf staff. No one else had ever bothered. Their background is fragmented; apparently some genius decided to populate the Ozarks with wolves and began a breeding operation in his backyard. He abruptly departed, leaving his girlfriend with no money, no explanation, and thirteen wolf-dogs. She had neither the means nor the aptitude to care for them.

The jilted girlfriend, well-intentioned at least, had called the local Humane Society for help, unaware that wolves and wolf-dogs are considered unadoptable by Humane Societies, and therefore euthanized. “Euthanasia” was apparently not a term that this particular Humane Society cared to use, however. They called the Sheriff, who went out to the property and engaged in target practice. All the wolf-dogs were shot except the ones the Sheriff couldn’t aim at fast enough. So Tonka and Noel, and their half-brother Ozzie, watched all of their brothers and sisters die by the Ozark County Sheriff’s gun.

He would have been back for them, but a local sanctuary got wind of the story and intervened, asking him to please stop until placement could be found for the three survivors. Wolf found two at the Humane Society by agreement with the local sanctuary, and my sweet little Ozzie alone, running around on the property littered with the decaying bodies of his dead family. That is how the three terrified faces before us had come to be. We were sickened and horrified by what they had been through in their young lives; they were only eight months old! We opened their travel kennels in the dark, and set about the task of making our new foster kids feel whole and safe again.

Ozzie was hit the hardest by all he had witnessed and endured. He was suffering: pacing endlessly, neurotically around the front dog house. When we entered he shook and tripped over his own feet to get as far away from us as possible. Worse, he was not neutered and had heartworm. Ozzie had to be darted again and neutered, and then isolated for a week. He would put his paws up on the separation wall in the enclosure’s center, wondering why he couldn’t be with his only remaining family. We spent time with him, trying to soothe, but he really wanted them. Finally, we were able to remove the center barrier and let them be together. That was a tremendous help to him emotionally and within two weeks he stopped the regular pacing, though for several months he reverted to that behavior when strangers were present.

We set a routine and stuck to it, to show them that life would be good to them. We are always careful to keep the same pattern of scooping, watering, and feeding. It is very important for the foster kids to see that life will have this safety feature; that they can count on their foster parents; that no more ugly surprises are likely in store. And again, they finally learned to believe, though they still become agitated in the presence of any humans other than us.

The pack loves to jump and play. “King or Queen of the Doghouse” remains one of their favorite games; whoever stays on the doghouse roof the longest and jumps on their siblings the most, wins. With Ozzie’s rough start behind him, he is a sweet, happy, boy, and the spokes-dog of the pack. He has a lot to talk about, and he loves to talk about it all at top volume while bouncing. Also, he likes to go on poop-scooping duty with me, and proudly goes ahead of me to point out the next offering, standing by it and grinning.

In the heat of summer they stand under the sprinkler with stupendous smiles on their radiant faces, or fish for ice in their large metal tub. And with every yard time, they run and run, back and forth, and I can’t help but think of our first pack on release day, when they were introduced to their final home and ran like the wind. And I reflect on how that pack changed physically in their new home, how their muscles grew so big and strong, with so much room to exercise, and how much bigger those muscles looked with each subsequent visit. And though I know we made our first pack happy, nothing can take the place of the feeling of spacious freedom.

These beautiful creatures, Tonka, Noel, and Ozzie, have been in our care for eighteen months, and we have to remind ourselves that it cannot go on forever. One day very soon the call will come, and we will receive the news that permanent placement has been arranged in a very large space. We will bear the news as graciously as possible, and our tears will flow freely once again. But their freedom, health and happiness are the only acceptable end results to their stories. They are the reasons we do this work.