Willow Oak is located in rural Alcorn County, Mississippi, and is surrounded by beautiful dogwood and
redbuds in the spring, white oak and white pine year round. I love to roll down the windows and take a ride
down some lonely and seldom-used unpaved roads, drinking in the sweet smell of honeysuckle and
listening to the trees, which are alive with the songs of birds. Often, during the dead of summer one can
see the buzzards high in the sky as they circle in search of food -- some carcass of a lonely coyote or a
dead rabbit.
I was driving down one of those lonely country roads when in the distance I could see something in the
road. As I approached, it appeared to be a dog -- a puppy, but I couldn't really tell. As I got closer I could
see that whatever it was, it was trotting down the road in my direction. Eventually I came adjacent to it, then
passed it, and as I did so I slowed way down and peered out my window at it as I drove by. What is it? What
kind of animal is that? Is that a dog? Could that be a dog?
I stopped my truck in the middle of the road, got out, and followed it on foot. When I did that it took off. I
followed the little creature, which was no larger than a size six shoe, as it crossed the ditch and into the
field on the other side. Soon I was on top of it, but as I reached out to grab it, it turned and growled and
snapped its jaws. Puppies are usually cute and cuddly, and they wag their tails and run to jump into your
arms, but this guy snarled and snapped and let me know with all his soul that he was not interested in
wagging his tail or jumping into my arms, nor was he cute and cuddly.
Fortunately I carry dog-catching equipment in my vehicle, among which is a blanket, so I retrieved the
blanket from my truck and went after the dog. Eventually I caught up with it and threw the blanket over it
and caught it. It fought and snarled and growled all the way back to the truck. I threw it into the cab of my
truck and drove off. I arrived at the vet that very day.
Once again I heard the question: "Whatcha got there?"
To which I replied: "You tell me!"
"Uh, looks like a rat or a possum ..."
"Look again."
Although he didn't exactly look canine he was. He had not one strand of hair, and the skin was sloughing
off on nearly every inch of his body. He had what appeared to be warts covering nearly every square inch
of his body, and his ears where full of crevices. He had open sores, with bones showing through his skin,
and fleas and ticks, and mange, and ..., well, he was a mess.
The resident technician tried to give him a bath, but he was adamant. He was having none of that. So he
was sedated, and he got his bath anyway, and he got some shots and just a good general going over. It was
a puppy that had somehow survived on its own out in the middle of absolutely no where. Surely this one
was born in the wild, since he seemed to have no appreciation of humans. Maybe I was the first human
being he had ever seen.
I knew immediately that I had myself another creature that was going to require time and energy and
patience -- lots of patience. I took him home to Willow Oak and put him into one of my bathrooms.
Thankfully the floors in my house are ceramic throughout, and every day I put the puppy in the bathtub
while I mopped his floor with hot bleach water and changed his bedding. He got fresh bedding every day.
He had been de-wormed, but I still gave him half a cc of Ivomec each day along with some good grub.
Within a day or two he had calmed down enough to stop growling every time I went into the bathroom.
As each day went by I would observe the pup as I went in to feed him and check on him. For one thing he
was so distended with worms that he could not lie on his belly. He always lay on his back. Each day I would
bathe him in warm, soapy water with a little bleach, and as I did so his skin would slough off in waves. The
best way I can describe him is "Yoda:" Yoda was a cute little character in the Movie "Star Wars," but at
least Yoda had little wisps of hair. This little guy I had was anything but cute, and he had no discernable
hair; and I had no idea what color it would be if and when he ever grew any. He was some ugly little
creature.
For several weeks he lay in the bathroom, slowly gaining his strength, and slowly gaining his confidence in
his surroundings and in me. Eventually I would let him out of the bathroom for short periods of time. I
would hold him, and allow him to get accustomed to begin held and petted. He was so malnourished that he
required a longer time to grow than normal puppies do, but grow he would. And within time he stopped
growling and snarling and snapping, and eventually he would even begin to smile and wag his tail and ...,
well, eventually he would become cuddly like a puppy should be!
Within time I introduced him to the rest of the clan. And although it took a while, he began to grow some
hair. And another thing happened: as he grew and new skin and new hair appeared, things in my house
begin to disappear. First a bathroom rug would be out of place, then a door stop would come up missing.
My house shoes disappeared, and the socks I left lying around on the floor. Anything on the floor small
enough to be carried off would disappear. This is where he earned his name: "Scamp." What a scamp he
was: always stealing things!
Scamp would eventually grow up as all pups do. He would grow into a big and healthy and happy dog! He
has beautiful markings and chiseled features, but he bears the scars of having had it so rough when he
was a baby. His ears especially were damaged by the mange mites, but otherwise he is healthy, vibrant, and
jovial. He got over his fear of me, but he is afraid of strangers. He always hides when someone he does
not know comes for a visit.
I think back on that day I saw him waddling down the road. He trotted along for all the world as if he owned
the road, and when I tried to catch him he showed no fear as he tried to bite me. But now at night just at
bedtime Scamp will waddle up to me, backside swinging back and forth, tail slapping against everything in
site, and ever so humbly and ever so gently he will reach forth his nose and wait for me to pat him on his
head and touch noses with mine. Then he will bound away and find a comfortable place to curl up for the
night. He is such a sweet pup.
But Scamp is and always will be a thief.
Now where are my shoes? It's time to get ready for work.
| Scamp's ears still bare the scars of having been eaten by mange mites when he was a puppy. |
| He's A Scamp Daniel Taylor |