Saving Damien
By: Andrew Katz
Tags: Dog, Loss, Companion, Rescue, Life

Using social media to rescue a lonely man’s soul companion

Damien ©the author

Walter was my Sunset Park, Brooklyn neighbor. He had six teeth, a chopped Yamaha 650 he rode from time to time pretending he was some kind of biker, and a black Great Dane mix named Damien. Long retired, Walter cared for his hundred-something mother whose last conscious moment was sometime during the first Bush presidency.

On my way home from work I’d see him standing in the patio of his brownstone, a can of Genesee in one hand. He talked about waiting hand and foot on the old lady while battling a pretty severe case of inflammatory arthritis.

“No one knows how much I suffer,” he said.

“God sees you, Walter,” I assured him.

What the hell else could I say?

Walter’s mother died and, in short order, so did Walter.

I never found out exactly what happened. Neighborhood consensus held it to have been a mix of alcohol and the fentanyl patches prescribed by his orthopod for arthritis. Whatever the case, his passing left poor sweet Damien alone. Neighbors ensured he had food and water, but he didn’t care to walk with anyone but Walter. They had been together since Damien was a pup. Now the Man was just gone, and his world upended.

Damien befriends the author’s dachshund, Willie ©the author

I talked to my wife about ways to expedite Damien’s adoption. We thought maybe social media. But we didn’t do anything until a day or so later when I spotted an ACC guy standing outside the courtyard of Walter’s row house. He held a four-foot metal snare in one hand. He was talking to some of the neighbors.

I called for backup, he said. Damien’s size intimidated him. They’re bringing the tranquilizer rifle.

I hated the idea of shooting Damien with a tranquilizer dart. Already stressed and confused and missing Walter like mad, it would only make him trust strangers less. He was already a large black, mixed-breed dog, checks in all the categories that would render him unlikely to be adopted. Were he to have any chance at all, he’d need to display a sweet, trusting disposition. Being hunted and captured like big game wasn’t the way to achieve that.

He knows me, I said. Let me try to bring him out.

Reluctantly the ACC guy agreed.

Damien raced for me when I entered the narrow foyer. He put his forepaws on my shoulders. I’m 6’2”, but standing thus, Damien was a good head taller. The ACC guy watched us through the glassed front door. Seen from behind it must have looked as though Damien was biting my head off. He was just anxious. Maybe he thought I would bring Walter back, or take him to Walter.

We sat together for a little while. I stroked his short black fur and spoke softly to him. The time came to go, but I had no idea where Walter kept Damien’s leash. Finally, I found a belt. I looped it gently around his neck and we went out together.

As we crossed the street to the ACC transport, a car pulled out and started to go down the street.

A woman in the passenger seat rolled down the window as the car slid past. Can you take him? she asked. It was Walter’s older sister. The car was gone before I could explain that with six dogs of our own — five dachshunds and one doxie-beagle mix — filling a thousand square feet. Taking Damien in was impossible.

Wieners sleep in a bed. Their owners’ bed. It takes twenty minutes to get each one arranged in his or her proper spot. A strict protocol is observed, otherwise, flare-ups and snapping are bound to result. Try to imagine poor Damien in that mix.

Battling for bed space ©the author

Sister’s question in passing was the extent of her efforts to find a home for her late brother’s companion. I still had Damien by a leather belt around his neck. He didn’t want to get into the ACC wagon. Maybe the smells contained within alarmed him.

You should have let me call for the tranquilizer, the ACC guy admonished.

Finally, after more gentle talk, Damien climbed aboard. The ACC guy snapped the cage door shut.

Damien had trusted me just enough to sell him down the river. His chances of being adopted through ACC were slim. We had a bit of luck when his disposition was assessed as level 2, meaning he was suitable for most homes with some reservations. With all he’d been through it might have been worse.

But he was still a longshot. Lisa and I posted to every social media site we could find. We contacted rescues — could they pull Damien? Did any have room for one more?

A bad moment came when someone posted Damien is safe in the thread we had started on Facebook. Declaring an animal “safe”, i.e. taken from ACC by a rescue (“pulled”) or adopted shuts down the growing network. People redirect their energies on behalf of a newer animal in need. Why would someone write that without knowing?

©the author

Just when we started to despair of getting Damien out of ACC alive, Second Chance Animal Rescue stepped in and pulled him out of the Brooklyn shelter. Now, whatever happened, Damien was no longer in danger of being put down simply because his existence was inconvenient.

Within weeks a retired couple in Long Island who had acres of property and extensive experience with large dogs adopted Damien.

He really doesn’t like baths, the man told me a few weeks after bringing Damien home.

Yeah, I said, Walter always said Damien hated getting wet.

Otherwise, he seemed to be settling in fine.

This the point where I’d like to conclude that Damien lived happily ever after, or as much as a dog like him can. But it was not to be. Six months after his adoption I called to follow up, maybe do a story on how a Brooklyn dog adapts to Island living for the Eagle.

I’m so sorry, he said. I meant to contact you. Past June he started throwing up a lot. Not eating. So we took him to the vet. Tumor on the pancreas. Spread all over. All we could do was let him go as easily as possible.

So there you have it. Was rescuing Damien ultimately an exercise in futility? He did spend his last months in a home with people who cared for him rather than terrified and alone in an ACC cage. Maybe that’s something.

© the author

Maybe he and Walter are even together again.

Somewhere.

I have no information about such matters.