The emaciated white Pit Bull who showed up at Andy Mills’ house last fall had badly-cropped ears, a visible ribcage, and gravel in her poop.
Andy’s first instinct was to take her in. Give her the good, loving home – and plenty of food – she’d obviously been lacking. He named her Macy, and marveled at her “sweet and loving” personality, even then.
But the dog was so sickly looking that Andy tried to maintain some initial distance.
“I had to be reasonable and get her to the vet to see what her situation was going to be. I had to remain realistic.”
The vet had strong words for Macy’s former owner, and also good news: At 24 pounds, Macy was dangerously underweight, and she had worms, but was otherwise remarkably healthy. (More good news – a kind stranger in the vet’s office helped pay for Macy’s initial bills.)
“I felt confident at that point that Macy was going to be make it and was also going to make it with me.”
In the last few months, Macy’s made it, all right. It took three weeks for her ribs to stop protruding, but now she’s made it to a healthy 50 pounds.
She’s even become best friend to Andy’s other dog, a great big fluffster named General. The pair spend their days playing and roaming Andy’s farm in College Grove, Tennessee, when they aren’t eating or sharing a good nap.
Andy says that as he’s cared for Macy, Macy has brought “more energy” to his life and to General’s. She’s been “a refresh on everything,” making General more playful and himself more mindful.
“Macy really reminds me to live in the moment.”
(Sometimes living in the moment means rolling in some nice stinky poop. Then Macy’s in need of some refreshing of her own.)
Andy wishes every once in a while that Macy’s former owners could know the pain of being emaciated, the pain of worms, just to have some inkling of what suffering this dog has endured.
But mostly, he just feels grateful to be able to give Macy this good life.
“She was raised by heathens, who didn’t feed her much less train her to behave. She chews on things and steals socks and yes, rolls in poop.
“But when I’m with her, she is fine; she follows me everywhere,” Andy says. “She knew she was rescued.”
All photos courtesy of Andy Mills