Magnus

Adopted 7 November 2002 in Coweta, OK – died 17 May 2010 in Houston, TX

At the time of his death, unable to find words, I borrowed from William Wordsworth:

[He] dwelt among the untrodden ways

Beside the springs of Dove,

A [dog] whom there were none to praise

And very few to love:

A violet by a mossy stone

Half hidden from the eye!

Fair as a star, when only one

Is shining in the sky.

[He] lived unknown, and few could know

When [Magnus] ceased to be;

But [he] is in [his grave, and, oh,

The difference to me!

“Billy Bob” had landed in a shelter in Coweta after human ineptitude on a grand scale caused 50% of the dogs and cats sheltered at “Hope for the Animals” (HA) to be executed without due process in Tulsa. 

In the helter skelter killing of friendly, healthy, young dogs, a tremblingly-avoidantly timid, seven-year-old with a sick heart was spared the syringe. The apocalyptic scene on 23 October 2000 left no record of the triage process because according to credible animal experts, Leslie Freeze Johnson, Dr. Connie Wright, and Dr. Thomas McCoy it was a needless massacre. HA's rescues were receiving more care than necessary, including expensive reconstructive surgeries, thanks to Hope Harder's magnanimity. After the killing frenzy --even dogs being boarded by other local organizations and the dog of a visiting friend where executed -- the guilty parties proceeded to "cover their own asses" said someone in-the-know.

What we know is that a casual observer deemed the animals playing or lounging in the yard of Hazel Pitcock (the homeowner/ HA's shelter manager) in “poor condition” –-which, incidentally, is how the homeless look before long-term care heals and restores them to their prime. 

Tulsa SPCA was alerted and director Jay Rector called the Sheriff’s Department not because it was an active cruelty situation, but because the large number of animals (about 300 dogs and cats) exceeded TSPCA’s ability to manage the case. 

Sheriff Glanz and Deputy Washburn, both with a checkered record, were among those present. To ascertain the situation, Glanz summoned a 1999 OSU graduate, authorized for equine practice only and at that time unemployed. None of the area veterinarians knew of Tery Stacy until then.

At the scene she declared the situation to be “the worst I’ve ever seen” which, as seasoned vet Thomas McCoy pointed out, couldn’t amount to much given her inexperience.

Second opinions be damned, Stacy ordered the euthanasia of many of the animals right there and then. Only Mrs. Pitcock, in a state of understandable desperation, tried to stop the madness. But she, the only person in posession of facts, was threatened with jail if she continued to interfere. 

Sheriff deputies without veterinary training – instead of Stacy, the one veterinarian present—brutally injected lethal fluid in the hearts of dogs and cats, often subduing the struggling animal by stepping on their necks. Some animals awoke on the way to the crematorium. The stuff of nightmares.

All area veterinarians later interviewed condemned Tery Stacy’s decision. Unrepentant and depite being reported to the Oklahoma Board of Veterinary Medical Examiners, Stacy went on to practice equine medicine in her hometown, Bixby. Pity the horses.

Between 90 and 150 animals who were finally safe at HA fell once again victim of human ignorance. As usual, the press stuck to sensationalism, reporting the raid with the wrong slant and utter ignorance of rescue operations, veterinary medicine, ethics, and more. 

Hope Harder and Hazel Pitcock were tragic figures; their sterling reputations and tireless work for the helpless besmirched by their lessers. But they were vindicated by the experts --fellow animal rescuers and respectable veterinarians.

Atonement

Two years later I called Hope Harder, ashamed for not having come forth much sooner. In the spirit of atonement that must accompany a sincere apology, I offered to adopt “the least adoptable dog” remaining from the survivors if any. There still remained a dozen or so. Unhesitantly Hope nominated “Billy Bob."

 

First encounter under the supervision of retired geophysicist turned breed (Alaskan Malamute) and overall dog rescuer Virgil Reed.

Renamed on the spot, “Magnus” remained mistrustful but the eight year that followed were rich. His trepidation on the ride from Coweta to Tulsa with Christopher Liner and me was rewarded by meeting Estrella (blogged 30 APR 2017) and Edelsinn (blogged 5 FEB 2017) his new companions. (Years later I learned that Magnus had an inseparable friend during his time at the shelter, a small white dog. I can only hope I really didn't know about this fact at the time because I should have adopted them both.) 

The mistrust Magnus felt around people was greatly mitigated by the presence of other animals. When Estrella died, he laid by her all night and when the body was removed he stayed in the same spot without food or water or relieving himself. His grief was so obvious that I asked a friend, Julia Zack, to bring a dog she was desperate to rehome. And so Magnus met Marshal in hopes of a new companion, but a battle royale ensued. Obviously it wasn't a good match ... or was it: After we separated the combatants, Magnus started prancing around, took a long drink of water,  a couple of bites, wagged his tail, sniffed his opponent's butt ... A new friendship was blossoming. (To get the full picture of Magnus, one must refer also to the biographies of Estrella, Edelsinn, Farhaan (Marshal), and Astra.) 

At a mature age for a large dog,  in 2005 Magnus traveled to Saudi Arabia where he lived two years, recovered from advanced heartworm despite a congenital heart defect, frolicked with his compadres –first Estrella, then Farhaan—in the jebels, returned to the USA in 2008, enjoyed every foster dog and cat that came into our home, and even his last morning walk (a few steps) in Houston, painful though it was. He could no longer stand. He loved one person --I was the lucky one-- intensely, perhaps as much as the huge bowl of vanilla ice cream he savored as he was being put to rest in his own bed and in my arms.

Magnus Tremulus Cowetus -- let his life be an example that no animal is too old, too sick, or too troubled by his past to be a best friend ... if given a chance.