Animal Tales-Maggie Mae

I follow in the footsteps of a very big dog.  My name is Maggie-Mae.  In August of 2010, my forever mamma dog lost her best friend of 18 years, Bucky.  Bucky Marie was a red-nosed pit rescued in the ‘90’s.  Her day of good fortune came when C picked her up at 8 weeks of age, wrapped her in a sweater, and carried her home.  When I was dumped at a gas station in a wayword southwestern town, I had no idea what my future held.  I was left still bleeding from having just delivered puppies.  A Good Samaritan picked me up and took me to the local animal shelter; she probably didn’t know it was a kill shelter, but fortunately for me a small rescue did. 


Meanwhile, unbeknownst to me, C had already seen my picture.  She spends a great deal of time searching the lists of shelters, of those lost and found, those abused, and those in need of a rescue.  She didn’t know how she would get me from one place to another or if the rescue ranch she co-founded was prepared for another dog.  Losing Bucky was a hard transition for Rasta’s human caretakers and the dogs on the ranch.  Being an elder, she held a place in the hierarchy of the six-pack at Rasta’s and a really special place in C’s heart that no one could ever fill.  


My fate was uncertain, I knew that much because in my belly there sat a ball of fear and I had no idea what became of my puppies, but my body ached for them.  I suppose I was with people that are called backyard breeders and they didn’t need me,  just my puppies to sell, fight, use as bait, or breed more.  


I should mention I’m a Staffordshire Terrier, a smaller dog, but strong as an ox, or so people have said.  Like the American Pit Bull I am a decendent of the bulldog and am sometimes the target of breed specific legislation.  The fate of dogs like me, once in the shelter system becomes a precarious one, especially in high kill shelters and/or areas known for dog fighting.


I ended up being one of the lucky ones as a small rescue made arrangements for my transport all the way to Rasta's.  At that time no one knew C had seen me, but once she discovered I’d made it closer to her, she determined fate was at work and my ultimate destiny was Rasta’s Rescue Ranch.


I am now part of Rasta’s permanent six-pack and have taken my place as second in command under Uncle Rudy, known as the Guardian of the Ranch.  This summer I received my first opportunity to prove myself a good mamma dog and a necessary part of the social network on the ranch.  First came Rain, a German shepherd lab mix found by New Mexico Dogs Deserve Better and then Rasta’s 7, the pups that came to Rasta’s in August.  I’m helping Rain grow up and loved having a chance to help those little pups along.  I wasn’t their mamma dog, but could have been.


I am a really happy dog now and a grateful dog, grateful for the small rescues that make the biggest difference.


Maggie-Mae

Blessed

Some days a common phrase around the ranch is “I hate people.”  Those are the bad days.  The days when Angela finds a pup like Sawyer, “The Padlock Puppy,” the days when you hear about a mama dog being dumped on a rural highway with her puppies in a bag beside her, or when someone finally surrenders a dog because they really don’t know what to do with an embedded collar.  Sometimes we just shake our heads and say through anger or tears, “I hate people.”

On those days our friends, supporters, donors, and volunteers make an immeasurable difference, and I’m reminded the good people outweigh the bad, careless, ignorant, and just plain cruel.

This week a professional dog trainer, Deb, visited the Ranch and volunteered her services.  Our horse trainer, Jan Burnham volunteered her extra energy and time.  And yesterday was volunteer day.  Jamie and Sue arrived with bags of apples and carrots and gave not only the horses extra attention, but their pens, catching up on maintenance (beyond mucking) that the three girls on the ranch don’t always have the time for.  This is when I am reminded most people are good.

Last week we raised all the money needed for Rudy’s surgery and can’t thank all of you enough or express the difference your gift of giving made in the company of many prayers and so much love. 

General care and feeding on the Ranch runs us a $1000.00 a month, so extras like Dancer’s special medicine for the Cushing’s, Rudy’s surgery, or even Rasta’s 7 pups, rescued in August, stretch our resources.  Sometimes it’s scary.  In 2009, when we started this venture it was rough financially, even more so emotionally.  2010 didn’t let up, but sheer perseverance helped us get by.  2011 has delivered us to a new phase here at Rasta’s.  It’s not easy to ask for help, but we’ve learned it’s not for us, but the animals and there’s a world of people out there who want to help make a positive difference.

All of you make a difference in Rasta’s world.  You’ve made it possible for us to grow with your donations, you’ve sent love and prayers, and I am certain that has provided much of the healing and the good and promising energy that is flowing for the ranch right now. 

We have volunteers!  We have professionals offering their valuable services.  We have you and that’s pretty neat.  Sometimes it’s hard, but friends and family can make all the difference.  Today, Rasta’s has a family beyond the animals that reside here and the caretakers of the ranch.  We have a growing family of friends from almost all 50 of the United States, a friend in Finland, France, and Great Brittan and well wishes from many places in the world.  A gathering of good people believing in a common cause, the health and well being of animals.  We are blessed to have you and send our thanks and very best to you and yours.

Your help makes it possible to do what we’re doing advocating, caring for, and providing for those in need of a rescue. 

Thank you,

From the spirit of Rasta, the Guardian Ru, Maggie-May, Sam, Chloe, Savannah, Pirate, Bella, Sadie, Scarlet, Dancer, Duffy, Sgt. Pepper, Moon, Lily the Goat, Rain, Tigger, Red, Rasta’s 7, and the three girls on the Ranch.