♿️- Terrie Mix - 30lbs, 3yrs old - Intake Feb 2024
Meet Gertrude, aka Trudy
Trudy’s story undoubtedly began long before she lost the use of her hind legs, but the part we know begins on a rural country road, where a Good Samaritan witnessed her being hit by a car.
We want to believe that person did what they could with the situation suddenly placed in front of them. Ultimately, that meant leaving a severely injured Trudy at the doorstep of a known rescue without permission, despite that rescue already being completely full and without the capacity or resources to take on a dog requiring immediate, intensive care. That rescue called one of its partners, and eventually the phone rang at FART.
One look at Trudy sealed the deal.
Saying yes wasn’t necessarily easy. Just one week earlier, we had lost Gladys, another dog who came to us following a similar traumatic situation. Her internal injuries were simply too significant, and the loss was still incredibly fresh when we were asked to consider taking Trudy. In retrospect, though, I sometimes think Gladys prepared us for her. Because everything we had just learned about caring deeply for a profoundly injured dog was about to be poured into one of the spunkiest, strangest, most resilient little creatures I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing.
Over the following two years, Trudy underwent intensive rehabilitation entirely from home. What began as life without functional use of her hind legs has evolved into something we once could only hope for: Trudy has regained mobility in them. Her progress continues, and she seems wholly uninterested in whatever prognosis, expectation, or conventional definition of disability might suggest she should slow down. Trudy can zip across a room or yard faster than plenty of dogs who have always had full use of all four legs, and if you spend enough time around her, you eventually stop thinking about what she can’t do because Trudy certainly isn’t thinking about it either.
Her physical differences do, however, come with real care requirements. Trudy needs assistance expressing her bladder and bowels. It sounds intimidating to someone who has never done it, but with education and a consistent routine, it becomes another part of caring for her - much like feeding, medications, walks, or any of the other routines we build around the animals we love. Her adopter does not need previous experience manually expressing a bladder; that is teachable. What isn’t teachable quite as easily is patience, commitment, attentiveness, and the willingness to understand that caring for a disabled animal sometimes requires reorganizing your expectations around their needs.
Thankfully, Trudy makes a fairly compelling argument for herself.
She is crate trained and genuinely enjoys having a space of her own, particularly when toys are involved. She gets along beautifully with other animals - dogs, cats, and apparently anything else that happens to wander into her orbit. She even has a peculiar fascination with insects, which feels entirely appropriate for a dog whose curiosity about the world seems to extend to virtually everything occupying it.
Children could absolutely be part of Trudy’s future home, with one important consideration. Because of the way she moves, Trudy operates at approximately toddler height, and excitement can occasionally result in some nippy enthusiasm. There isn’t a malicious bone in this dog’s body, but enthusiasm and good intentions do not negate the need for thoughtful supervision. A family with children simply needs to understand her movement, her excitement, and how to set everyone up for successful interactions.
Trudy is also fearful of car rides, and considering that one of the defining events of her life involved being struck by a vehicle, I find that fear fairly easy to understand. What is fascinating is that underneath it lives a dog with an enormous sense of adventure. I suspect there is a version of Trudy still waiting to discover just how much of the world can be hers once transportation stops feeling like something frightening and starts predicting something wonderful.
What makes Trudy exceptional, though, is difficult to capture in a list of medical needs, training accomplishments, or behavioral characteristics. She has an almost unreasonable zest for being alive. She is curious, goofy, resilient, affectionate, peculiar, and profoundly entertaining. She has been through circumstances that could easily make her story sound sad, yet sadness is one of the last things I associate with actually knowing her. She is the light in an enormous number of my everyday interactions, and she has an uncanny ability to make people smile almost immediately upon meeting her.
There is additional work involved in caring for a dog like Trudy. Pretending otherwise would do her and a potential adopter a disservice. Disabled-animal care isn’t for someone looking for effortless companionship. It requires consistency and occasionally means doing things for your dog that most dog owners never have to think about. But the return on that investment is difficult to quantify. For the right person, the things that initially seem like “extra work” simply become the mechanics of loving the particular animal who happens to be yours.
Trudy’s ideal home understands that distinction. Her person won’t define quality of life by the number of perfectly functioning limbs a dog has. They will understand that the most significant limitations in Trudy’s life are often the ones other people assume she has. They’ll be willing to learn her care, continue supporting her mobility and rehabilitation, give her independence where she wants it and assistance where she needs it, and occasionally get out of the way because Trudy has somewhere to be.
When I imagine homes for the animals in our care, Trudy’s has always looked a little different to me. I picture her somewhere she isn’t tucked away or treated like something fragile. I can see her as the unofficial greeter of a bookstore, a little shop, a studio, or some other welcoming place where people regularly come and go - stationed somewhere near the front, toys nearby, enthusiastically collecting admirers and making complete strangers smile simply because they happened to walk through the door.
Maybe her forever home looks nothing like that. But I know it should be somewhere Trudy gets to be seen.
Not because she is disabled.
Because there is simply too much personality, curiosity, resilience, and joy packed into this dog for only a handful of people to experience it.
Questions?
Email: HelpUsFart@gmail.com
Link to Adoption Application HERE
Link to Foster Application HERE
