Gildy Pants

Gildy was brought in to the Emergency Hospital when seven months old, because her eyes had become "nasty" in her young owners' words. She was emaciated, matted down to the skin, covered with flea dirt. Her eyes were scarcely visible through her matted fur, but were oozing pus and blood. She shrieked and tried to bite anyone who touched her. It became clear that her eyes had become infected due to having hair embedded in them, and that they were too damaged to be salvaged. It was clear that since her owners were over their head already caring for her, they certainly would not have the capacity to care for her if she were blind. Tearfully, but gratefully, they relinquished her to our care. It was with considerable trepidation that our veterinarian performed the bilateral enucleation surgery to remove eyes that had become nothing more than a source of pain and infection. Would this tiny, defensive, fearful little creature flourish under our care? Would she be better served by letting her go? Was our decision to keep her going a selfish one, based on our reluctance to make a hard decision on her behalf? Within a week of her surgery, the answer was clear: she wanted to live, and live with gusto. We brought Chloe, our little chihuahua with bent legs, back from her foster home to help her adjust. At first, Chloe would try to get Gildy to play, nibbling at her hind end, sneaking up, pouncing, seemingly without understanding that Gildy could not see her. The first week Gildy would stand perfectly still, nose tilted to the ceiling, throughout Chloe's antics. By the next week, Gildy was chasing, pouncing, nibbling, and emitting the most impressive guttural play growls. Gildy is now legend for her feistiness, her lust for playing with toys, other dogs, for foraging for cat food, for pushing her way out the back door ahead of all the other dogs. There is no doubt in anyone's mind, after seeing her, that we did right by her.