“We assumed she would go into the woods and die.”

A story of dog abandonment with the best possible ending.

A few years ago, a neighbor told me that a, “Texas Blue Dog,” had been sighted nearby. That week, a strange and pitiful-looking creature appeared across the street from our very long driveway in Florida. I had already done my research and discovered that Texas Blue Dog is a misnomer; they are, in fact, deathly sick coyotes. These benighted creatures were once thought to be Latin American, mythical, vampire creatures and were called Chupacabra. But they are just coyotes, very ill with highly contagious, sarcoptic mange. The one I saw haunted me.

That’s partly why one early December evening in 2019 as I drove down our street in SW Florida and spotted an animal up ahead, too thin and walking stiffly in the road, I thought, Coyote! But as I got closer I realized that it was a large dog, and when I pulled up alongside, saw that it was a female German Shepherd.

She was senior and very arthritic, with a slow, pained walk and no collar. Even in her diminished condition there was something elegant about her. I rolled down my window and spoke softly to her, but she kept walking, slowly, and didn’t look at me. Then she turned and walked along a driveway leading to a small house. I pulled over, got out and went toward the house, where a man was on the porch, to ask if the dog belonged there.

No, he said, she lives next door, but they let her wander. At that moment, the dog turned and went through an opening in the hedge toward the house he had indicated. Somewhat relieved, I drove on my way. But I was troubled. What had the neighbor meant when he said they let her wander? She was clearly not in good health, and a dog without a collar is always a warning sign to those of us who do care that someone does not care. I got to my meeting and told the story, still feeling uneasy about the dog’s welfare.

Three weeks later I got an urgent text from a woman named Blythe who had been referred to me by a mutual friend. Blythe had been driving home from work that afternoon when a frail-looking dog, with no collar, came out of the woods on our street. Blythe stopped, got the dog into her car, drove her home and now needed some help. Could we talk?

The dog was a large, old, female German Shepherd with no collar — clearly the same one I’d seen three weeks before, who had since been living in the woods — and Blythe had already gone on the Nextdoor app and seen a Lost Dog post by the Shepherd’s owner. But when Blythe called, the owner* explained, She’s been a great dog for almost fifteen years. She was always great with the kids. We assumed she’d just go into the woods and die.

Can I keep her for however long she has left? Blythe asked.

Yes, said the owner, immediately.

Blythe, having been told the dog’s name, soon ammended it and found herself calling the dog Shellbelle.

Blythe was already committed — I didn’t realize how much yet — but needed some support, which is where I came in. Blythe had cats and a large, beloved, three-legged dog who had survived cancer and she wasn’t sure how to integrate the two dogs; if there would be a problem. She was thinking of keeping Shellbelle comfortable outdoors until she could sort this out, maybe finding a decent dog house for a couple of nights in her large, fenced-in yard. She and I knew this was far from ideal, but we posted the need, while investigating other options.

A woman who rescues Shepherds reached out immediately, but she was not going to keep Shellbelle, and I never like the idea of moving an abandoned dog from situation to situation. There has already been too much stress on the dog, and so I look for a forever home right away.

When I called Blythe the next day to tell her that we’d had an offer for Shellbelle to be fostered, she was driving home from work again. There was a slight pause and then I heard her weeping. She was already seriously attached to Shellbelle and thought that I was going to insist on taking the dog away from her. I was not. It was not my place to do that, but more importantly, those moments were a reminder to me of how much the human figures into these hospice dog rescues as well as the dog. Blythe already loved Shellbelle. And so I apologized profusely and assured her that Shellbelle was hers, as far as I was concerned, and I’d do everything I could to provide support.

As luck would have it, Blythe’s three-legged dog, Flash, was a gentleman with Shellbelle, taking to her sweetly, as she did to him, and so Shellbelle was brought inside Blythe’s house to join the other animals after one night outside in the fenced-in yard in the balmy Florida air, with food and water, a dog bed and blanket. No dog house needed.

And so it was that Shellbelle spent the last three months of her life in loving comfort, with support from members of the community who donated food and bedding. A foundation for homeless hospice dogs paid for her wellness visits to the vet and all medicines to keep her comfortable, and she had physical affection and respectful attention from all those who had the privilege of meeting her. She turned fifteen during those last weeks; Blythe had asked her former human when her birthday was, so we knew.

Blythe took outstanding care of Shellbelle, and a good friend from across the street, Mike, provided lots of added help. There were many wonderful playtimes and walks with Shellbelle and Flash, and she was sweet with Blythe’s cats.

When Shellbelle came to the point where she could longer walk, Mike carried her outside and then back in whenever she needed transport. We talked about getting her a wheelchair, but it seemed too late to get her fitted for a custom “cart” and some dogs don’t take to them, especially large dogs.

I was amazed at Shellbelle’s grace and sweetness. I think she must surely have been sent from The Divine Source to show us what it means to be abandoned when we are old and sick, and yet to remain so utterly loving and, somehow, dignified. She was definitely meant to cross Blythe’s path, as she did that day, coming out of the woods, hungry and in pain and tired, having been left to find her own food and wander the streets.

When the day came to release Shellbelle from her physical suffering, the vet came to Blythe’s house, as did Mike, and I was asked to be there, too, with my rescue partner, Johanna. Flash sat quietly nearby, and then lay down with us, as Blythe and the vet shepherded Shellbelle peacefully from this life to the next. We had her privately cremated and her ashes returned to Blythe, who created a small, outdoor shrine for her.

We all loved her and we all miss her. And we will never understand how those who had apparently cared about her for fourteen years thought that she should just go into the woods and die alone. There are other options! Please spread the awareness!

*Owner — I’m loathe to use this word when referring to those who have dogs, as I feel that dogs are divinities we can no more own than we can own the sky or the sea. I prefer, ‘guardian.’ However, ‘owner’ is the word most commonly recognized by people who have animals and might be reading this article.