I smelled something.

My name is Pumpkin.  We had been riding in the car for days and each time we stopped, my entire head throbbed with exciting new smells.  From the intoxicating odor that rose up from the roads to the most wonderful chow that master called “fast food” to the rough carpets of the hotel room floors – I was in heaven.  But now – I smelled something I hadn’t smelled before and I didn’t like it.  It was a sour, rotting smell – and it burned my nose.  It made me want to run away… yet my legs wouldn’t move.  I could feel my chest pound and I had the urge to urinate.  I looked to my master to see what he did.  He always knows what to do and I trusted that he would show me.

Then I saw him.  Another dog.  He hid behind his master’s legs and quivered.  It was hard to tell just how big he was because he seemed to be trying to disappear.  The smell came from him.  He was terrified.  His eyes looked toward us, but were not focused.  It was as if he was trying to will himself invisible. (I do that when I am sneaking up on a sandwich)

My master, Richard, lowered himself to the carpet.  He reached for the dog, whom they called “Mel”.  Richard’s face was relaxed and I could see the same affection as he looked at this fear-filled dog that he has when he looks at me.  I knew right away that this little guy was to be a part of our family.  I also knew that I had an important role to play.

Mel stayed firmly put behind the other man’s legs.  I took a cautious step toward him.  I looked hard at his face and told him with my eyes that everything would be ok.  I wagged my tail; but just a little bit, so as not to frighten him further.  The cautious pup peeked at me.  Then took a step.  And another.  Soon our noses were touching and I whispered in his ear, “He won’t hurt you.”  It sounded more like a sniff and blowing of air, but he got the message.  He relaxed a bit and came with us.

That night, the poor little guy decided to stay in the corner of our cabin.  The shaking came and went.  He was the quietest thing I ever saw.  The next night, he came and slept beside me and my masters.  I knew they were going to count on me to help Mel feel safe.  I became his protector.  Now, I am his voice when he needs to go out.  I let our masters know when the sadness returns – and we comfort him.  No one will ever hurt him again.

I sometimes hear my master talk about the things poor Mel went through.  As best as I can explain, Mel used to be what is called a bait dog for a dog fighting ring.  Torturous things like electrocution, beatings, time spent on a rape stand, and other horrors happened to Mel and the other dogs who were found with him.   When the people talk about it, there is a place inside of me that feels that fear that I smelled in Mel.  How can people do those things to dogs?  Do they not know that we just want them to play with us and give us an occasional “good boy”?  If there is an extra steak to go ’round that’s ok too.  If not, we’ll eat our dog chow and be grateful for it.

The man who was responsible for what happened to Mel was a man named Michael Vick.  I used to watch him play football for the Atlanta Falcons.  (On weekends, Richard and I occasionally eat chips and watch sports on TV)  He went to prison for 21 months for what he did to Mel and the others.  But now… he is once again playing professional football on TV.  I don’t think I can ever watch him play again.  How can the people who run the NFL allow him to represent their organization?  Sure, we all make mistakes… (once, when I was a puppy I ate Richard’s favorite pair of shoes) but some things are a privilege, not a right.  I wonder what someone would have to do in order to be deemed ineligible to represent a professional team seeking to be role models for an entire city?  Or is it all about what the people call “money”?  I do not understand money – I only know good and evil.  Mel will have a place of suffering in the pit of his stomach forever.  What happened to him was evil.

I know we can’t take away Mel’s past, but we are trying our best to show him that our love for him will win over the dark places.  It sounds like there are others like Mel out there.  I only hope there are more people like my master and the people at Best Friends Animal Society to rescue them.

** Pumpkin is a 13-year old terrier.  Dallas talk show host Richard Hunter and his wife traveled to Best Friends Animal Society last September with Pumpkin to rescue Mel, one of the 22 dogs who were abused by Michael Vick – then an Atlanta Falcon professional football player.  The NFL has reinstated Michael Vick following his 21 month prison sentence and he is playing professional football for the Philadelphia Eagles.