Story and photos by Karen Dugan Holman, B.S., B.S.E., M.S.
Combativeness, anger, hostility, cruelty, and lack of empathy and
compassion plague our society. This negativity has given me a purpose behind sharing a story of love, grit, and a whole lot of luck. I know many of you have an emotional connection to animals and nature. E. O. Wilson described biophilia as the human attraction to animals as an innate tendency to focus on nature and life. He believed that humans have an emotional connection or fascination with other forms of life and nature, a sense of phylogenic relationship with all life on earth.
I am hopeful that this story reminds you of the goodness of people, and you will share your warm stories with others. Instead of focusing on all the cruelty and negativity, especially in the animal world, focus on the positive connection experienced with animals and the joy they bring. When we are compassionate, we are aware of a deep connection between ourselves and all creatures.
People Respond to the SOS
Oklahoma winters often bear down on us with a vengeance. A few Januarys ago, we went from a warm and sunny morning to ice, “snizzle” (an Oklahoma term for precipitation that combines snow and sleet), and blistering wind, topped off with beautiful snow glistening under the stars. My son Matt was traveling from Oklahoma City to Tulsa to pick up his dog that we were dog-sitting. On the Creek Turnpike, the snowplows were whizzing by, and traffic was slowed because of ice under the blanket of frosty snow. As Matt exited the turnpike, a truck driver in front of him tossed something out the window. Swerving to not hit it, Matt noticed the object moving through the snow in a white blur. It was a puppy, white with black spots, running the wrong way toward oncoming traffic. That was when I got the call to help.
I put an alert on social media for assistance. I met my son on the side of the turnpike westbound between County Line Road and Elm Street. With car flashers blinking, we drove slowly on the shoulder, expecting the worst. We could see flickering flashlights held by other people in search of this fast-as-lightning pooch. We approached a northside incline as ominous as the snowy ski slopes of Colorado. At the same moment, we shouted, “Did you see that?” We both saw glistening eyes. Was it the pup, a raccoon, or just wishful imagination? I stopped the car, and out Matt jumped, adorned in loafers and a suit. He began the repetition of crawling up the incline, sliding back down, climbing back up, and continuing the pattern until he reached the top. He screamed, “Oh, my gosh!” It was the puppy!
Our hopes were quickly dashed when the pup ran lickety-split along the jogging trail fence with Matt following — sliding, climbing, and running. I drove carefully on the turnpike shoulder to try to keep up. The crafty pup squeezed through a hole in the fence, continuing to escape on the trail. Matt skied down the hill on the soles of his dress shoes and jumped back into my car, shouting, “Turn the heat up and go! Exit Elm and go to the parking lot.”
We can trap her now, we thought. A crowd gathered, and we all walked in the frigid weather carrying treats and leashes. We were very aware of our winter-weather warning, with temperatures below zero overnight and a wind chill of minus 10 degrees. There was no sign of the speed-demon dog. Searching continued for several hours, and everyone agreed we would have to return at daylight, but we feared it was too cold for the pup to survive.
Perseverance Pays Off
At sunrise, school was canceled. A snow day! I put out another plea for help, grabbed much warmer clothes, and met a group of people at the Creek Turnpike trail. I did not know most of them. We searched with cheeseburgers, chicken, and steak, anything that might be yummy enough to draw the dog out of the woods. That is when I looked up to see my son and another group of volunteers from a church searching along the turnpike. This reaffirmed my faith in humanity and community. Again, no luck. No pup. We went home to warm up, but I knew I had to go back.
On my return, I parked on a neighborhood side street, realizing I was on the edge of a friend’s property and seeing a large “No Trespassing” sign. I was ready to brave the blistering wind and search the property. Thinking I was seeing things, I rubbed my eyes to focus because the snow was getting deeper and the sky darker. There she was, this scrawny spotted puppy trotting around the corner from the thick
woods. I carefully opened my car door, armed with a pouchful of various meats. I prayed I would not escalate her fear. She trotted straight to me and my open car door, and she jumped right in. I slowly got in and put her under my new pea coat, offering her some of my yummy treats.
The human-animal connection was at work between us. I looked at my radio as I warmed her, and Barry Manilow’s song “It’s a Miracle” was playing. I took pictures of the pup and sent them to my son. “Is this the same dog?” I asked. It was! Safe and warm, everyone returned home full of joy and relief. Another dog was rescued.
some pounds and years. You can see
how she got her name — two wings
with a heart in between.
Pup Finds Love and Acceptance
I drove the pup to the nearest veterinarian to check for a microchip. She was chipped, but the owner would not answer the call. We emailed him, but he was not appreciative of the many people who had volunteered to search in frigid temperatures to save her. In fact, he denied ownership. He was hateful and lacked empathy. That was that. She was going to our house for safekeeping.
My family was not exactly looking for another dog. In fact, Maddie, my female Labrador, wasn’t always the warmest host to dogs in our home.
According to our vet, this puppy was not a puppy at all. She was probably three years old. To top it off, she was extremely fearful — tail tucked, cowering, wanting to escape from her new life. But the other dogs, including Maddie, had another plan. They seemed to adore her and accept her. It’s amazing to see animals caring for each
other. I quickly realized this dog could not go to a new home while she was this fearful. She was our new family member and a new project, indeed.
She would need to build confidence and trust. That was not going to happen overnight. It was essential that her perception of people would change. Not all humans are cruel, impatient, or hurtful. We quickly made a list of all of the things that triggered her fear, and there were many. We tried very hard as a family to remove those triggers from her repertoire. She would need a structured, predictable, and positive environment. We started consistency in every aspect of her new home.
But she also lacked something very important — a name. She has two large wing-shaped spots on her back with a heart in the middle. “Halo” was blurted out, and we all knew it was a perfect fit — although if I am feeling frustrated with her, I might just call her Tollgate in memory of her turnpike adventures.
Halo is a work in progress and is not perfect. But she is very loved, sleeps under the covers each night, and is a constant companion to all. She is delightful at one moment and a Tasmanian devil the next. We try not to laugh at her terrier ways, and all agree she is a perfect addition to our family. My pea coat still has Halo fur embedded in the wool, a reminder of our connection.
I am sure many of you have stories much like mine. I am hopeful that my story serves as a reminder to share more of our heart with others. We have so much to offer this world and must remember that we are much stronger together.
