The Story of Salsiccia

Late last Friday

We got up late last Friday morning, it must have been around 9:30. It was raining and we didn’t need to be anywhere so we sat and had our coffee while we checked email and caught up on news. 

All of a sudden we heard yelping, similar to a fox pup. I immediately opened the window to see if I could hear the direction it was coming from but it had stopped. The rain continued to come down with even more gusto.

I took another sip of my coffee when Tim let out a “Jesus” as he looked out the window. He thought he had seen a badger, not unexpected since there are a few around and at least one living on the property but it wasn’t a badger at all, “It’s a three-legged dog!!” he yelled.

It was a strange sight, not because the dog was missing a leg but because we’re in the middle of nowhere. We are in the country, we can’t see any neighbours and most days we can hear gunshots from pig hunters.

I got up and went to the door. There waddled and whimpered a broken coat dachshund mix with a missing rear leg. I opened the door to the dripping wet, shivering dog. Scared, it reluctantly came inside, trembling but with its tail wagging.

We tried to no avail to get it to sit in front of the fire to dry off. All she wanted was to be pet and comforted, whimpering and crying with the joy of being rescued from the cold and wet outdoors. She was so happy, like one of the animals on the Handicapped Pets website.

F*cking gross

Still trembling, we wrapped her up in a towel and dried her off. That’s when Tim noticed the smell, “That’s f*cking gross man, it stinks!”. Who knew how long she had been out there. We had heard yelping a few days earlier and just assumed it was a fox. Absolutely filthy, with matted fur tangled with a few burs and reeking like an old pair of boots, it was bath time.

Without any hesitation she calmly stood in our plastic laundry basket while Tim washed her down with a nice warm shower. the water in the tub turned dark brown as we finished rinsing her. The whole time not a peep or a growl or even a movement, it was obvious she wanted a bath as much as she needed one.

 Afterwards I swaddled her and dried her off and Tim took her, wrapped in two towels, warming and petting her until her shivering finally stopped and she nearly fell asleep. Meanwhile we made a plan to find her home.

I emailed the owner of the house we’re sitting to see if she knew someone with a three-legged dog. She had no idea who’s dog it might be but copied a neighbour on the email in case she might know.

We decided we would drive into the village, about 15 minutes away, and see if someone recognized her. With the help of a friend and Google translate, I wrote down a few Italian sentences to be able to communicate our intentions.

On our way we stopped at the first condo development we saw. The complex is all but abandoned. We knocked on the first door that had open shutters on the windows. An old man answered, hesitant to open the door to strangers. Tim apologized for bothering him and explained, “Sono Canadese, lo sai questo cane?” pointing at me standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding the dog. He let out a “No, no” and shut the door.
As we walked back to the car I noticed another condo with opened shutters. “Let’s just try that one and then we’ll go into town.”

Again Tim knocked on the door and explained the situation. The woman who answered told us she had studied English years ago but didn’t remember much. She offered to write about the found dog on Facebook in hopes that someone would know the owner. Then she decided it might be a better idea to call the gardener of the complex and see if he might know who she belonged to.

As she spoke on the phone I could hear a voice around the corner, answering her questions. She nodded yes to us. The owner had been found.

Tim and the woman came down the stairs and as we crossed the lawn we saw the gardener making his way towards us with a big smile. She told us that the gardener knew the owner and he would keep the dog until the owner could pick her up.

He took the dog from my arms and repeatedly said “Grazie, grazie mille!” and told us she was a hunting dog and even with only three legs she still could chase down a hare.

We stood in the driveway as the gardener made a call to the owner and told him he was holding a dog with only three legs. We could hear the owner’s voice through the phone. She had been missing for three or four days and he was obviously overjoyed to be able to get his tiny companion back home again.

 We named her Salsiccia, we still don’t know her real name. We were happy to have found her owner but a tiny bit of both of us wished it had taken a few more days.