When Oogy was four months old and weighed thirty five pounds he was tied to a stake and used as bait for a Pit Bull. The left side of his face from just behind his eye was torn off, including his ear. He was bitten so hard a piece of his jaw bone was crushed. Afterward, he was thrown into a cage and left to bleed to death.
I am not a religious man, but I can only
conclude that at that moment God turned
around and paid attention. The police raided
the facility, found Oogy, and took him to
Ardmore Animal Hospital, where Dr. Bianco
stitched him up and saved him.
This coincided with the last weekend of life for our cat, Buzzy, who was 14 at the time. My sons and I had taken Buzzy to AAH for his last visit. The staff had gathered Buzzy in when out comes this pup that looked like nothing more than a gargoyle. He covered us with kisses. The boys and I fell instantly in love with him.
Life goes out one door and in another. 'This
is one of the happiest dogs I've ever met'
Dr.
Bianco said. 'I can't imagine what
he'd be like if half his face hadn't been
ripped off.' Then, Dr. B said, 'I am not
going to tell you the things this dog has
been through'. Dr. B's assistant, Diane,
took Oogy into her home for several weeks to
foster him and make sure he was safe and to
crate-train him.
Once Oogy came into our house, for my sons, then 12, it was like having a little brother. Whatever they did and wherever they went, there was Oogy. Oogy had to get involved in whatever the lads were doing. He became known as The Third Twin.
Dr. B thought Oogy was a Pit or Pit-mix and
would get to be about 45 pounds. By the time of his first checkup, Oogy weighed 70
pounds. When we walked in the door for the
visit,
one of the women who works at AAH
exclaimed,
'That's a Dogo!' I asked, 'What's a Dogo?'
She said, 'I'm not sure.'
We went on line and learned that the Dogo Argentina is bred in Argentina to hunt mountain lion and boar. Oogy can run about 30 miles an hour, all four legs off the ground like a Greyhound. His leg muscles are so strong that, when he sits, his butt is a half-inch off the ground. Dogos hunt in packs. Dogos hurl themselves against their prey and swarm it.
Oogy has a neck like a fire hydrant to protect him when he closes on his prey. He is built like a Pit Bull on steroids, with white fur as soft as butter and black freckles. Fully grown, Oogy is 85 pounds of solid muscle, but he does not know this and sits on us. He absolutely craves physical contact. He is full of kisses and chuffs like a steam engine when he is happy. He has a heart as big as all outdoors. One of the traits of the breed is that they fully accept anyone their family does. It is not unusual to come home and find three teenagers on the floor playing a video game and Oogy sprawled across their laps like some living boa.
Oogy hated the crate, and would bark and
bark whenever we put him in. This puzzled me
because I had been told by people with
crate-trained dogs that their pets love the
crate and feel secure in its confines. When
Oogy was about eight months old, we hired a
trainer who also happened to be an animal
'whisperer'. We introduced her to Oogy and
she sat on the floor for a full five minutes
talking to him. We could not hear a word she
said. When the trainer lifted her head her
eyes were brimming with tears. 'Oogy wants
you to know' she said 'how much he
appreciates the love and respect you have
shown him.' Then she asked about his
routine. I started by showing her where he
slept in the crate. She said immediately,
'You have to get him out of that box'.
'Why?' 'Because he associates being in a box
with having his ear ripped off.' It was a
smack-myself- in-the-forehead moment. Oogy
never went back in.
Given what Oogy endured and what he is bred
for, people are constantly astonished that
he loves animals and people as much as he
does. Walking with Oogy is like walking with
a mayoral candidate. He has to meet
everyone. A number of people we encountered
in the neighborhood early on told me they
were afraid of Oogy because when they would
walk or jog by the house,
Oogy would bark at them and trot
parallel to them, and given his size and
looks... But everyone falls in love with
Oogy. By the end of their initial encounter
they are rubbing, petting, even kissing him
on the nose. Oogy kisses them back. Because
of the way he looks, when people meet him
for the first time they almost always ask if
he is safe. I tell them, 'Well, he has
licked two people to death.'
For the first year and a half of his life, part of Oogy's face was normal and the other part looked like a burn victim's. People who saw him in passing could not grasp the duality. As Oogy grew, the scar tissue spread. He could not close his left eye, so it wept constantly; his lip was pulled up and back. Dr. B said Oogy was in constant pain. So, in January 2005, Dr. B. rebuilt Oogy's face. When all the scar tissue was removed, there was a hole in Oogy's head the size of a softball. After removing the scar tissue, Dr. B took grafts and pulled the flaps together and sewed Oogy back up. Now Oogy has a hairline scar, but other than that looks just like any normal one-eared dog.
An essential part of this story is the fact
that AAH has never taken a dime in payment
for anything they have done for Oogy. I
never asked them for such an arrangement.
When I went to pay the first bill I was
told, 'Oogy's a no-pay.' I never asked why
this is. Oogy is their dog. We are just
lucky enough to look after him.
Because some of his jaw bone was removed in the initial surgery, some of Oogy's lower left lip droops and a repository for dust and dirt. It is second nature to us to pull the detritus off his lip when we sit next to him. One day I told my sons that when they tell their children about Oogy, they will remember this routine act of kindness. I think that, on some level, every day we try to atone for what happened to him.
Last summer Oogy had ACL surgery; his body ultimately rejected the steel plates and developed an infection so his leg had to be opened up a second time and the plates removed. When I went to pick him up following the second surgery, the Technician who brought Oogy out said, 'This is a great dog, I really love him.' I said, 'Yep, we're lucky to have him'. The Tech looked at me and said, 'No, you don't understand. I see hundreds of dogs each week, and every once in awhile there is a special one. And you have him.'
When I related that story to Dr. B he said, 'But
we already knew that.'
Oogy's name is a derivative. The first day I was
told we could adopt him I was thinking, 'This is one
ugly dog.' But we couldn't call him 'Ugly.' Then I
went to a variation of that from my youth, 'Oogly,'
and his name followed immediately. Two years after
we named him we learned that Oogy is the name of the
Ghost Dog in the film, 'The Nightmare Before
Christmas'.
This is not inappropriate.
On a recent Saturday afternoon Oogy was curled up on
the couch asleep, his head in my lap, and I was
thinking about his life is now as opposed to the way
his life had been before. Would he have sensed he
was dying? Was he conscious when the police put him
on a rubber sheet and took him to the Ardmore Animal
Hospital? Oogy went to sleep in a world of terror
and searing pain and awoke surrounded by angels in
white coats who were kind to him, who stroked him
gently and talked softly to him. Instead of people
who baited and beat and kicked him, he was
surrounded with healing mercies.
I realized then that Oogy probably did not know he
had not died and gone to heaven. So I told him. I
said, 'Listen pal. It only gets better after this.'
This incredible dog now lives on the Main Line with
his adoptive family, Larry and Jennifer and their
twin sons, Noah and Dan. Noah and Dan are pictured
here in the above photograph with Oogy. Main Line
Animal Rescue would like to thank Larry, Oogy's
proud father, for sharing his story and helping us
educate people to the horrors of dog fighting.


