“Saving just one dog won’t change the world, but surely it will change the world for that one dog.”

(My apologies to whomever originally said that; I have no idea who you are.)

Titan was almost done for, and he knew it.

He’d been on his own for quite some time. A tussle with something left him injured, and his paws were so swollen and sore that he was no longer able to hunt to feed himself.

He’d eeked out an existence for a few days, stealing food from Joe and Leslie’s bird feeders and eating what little snow was on the ground prior to Winter Storm Titan’s approach. During the artic cold front with temperatures well below zero that came after the storm, he’d sought shelter under their porch.

It was after that they found him.

Wandering in the driveway, gaunt, his front paws swollen to almost double their size, he was quiet. Almost…resigned to his fate.

They took him into their garage, wrapped him with blankets, and gave him food and water. He was literally starving.

Joe and Leslie are friends of mine. She messaged me and sent pictures, asking if I knew of anyone who might want a BBD (big black dog.) He was only a puppy, they knew, but of course puppies grow up. They were not able to keep him, and were going to take him to the shelter the following day.

I can’t explain it. I felt a connection to him. And, I knew at the shelter he would be immediately euthanized.

Our local shelter has the same problem most shelters do: struggling with tight budgets, their limited resources have to be devoted toward saving the most animals possible. That means they have to make hard decisions: to save the ones they can, who are immediately adoptable.  They simply don’t have the resources to devote toward medical care for one dog.

Titan had another strike against him too: he is black.

It’s a universal statistic among all shelters and rescues that the black dogs, especially the BBD’s, are among the last to be adopted. They linger on, growing older and larger, until someone comes along and adopts them or, needing the space, the shelter has to euthanize them.

I’m not really sure why it’s so hard to adopt a black dog. They are difficult to photograph well (I can testify to this), I suppose they can be intimidating, and maybe they’re just not as interesting and attractive as some of their multi-colored cousins.

Because of this, Jimmy and I have kind of become champions for BBD’s. We look for the ones who are the least adoptable.

Our dogs are the ones no one else wanted.

Back to Titan.

I named him Titan, not only because he’d survived Winter Storm Titan, but also after NASCAR’s new jet dryers, the Air Titans. They are strong, and can dry a race track in 90 minutes or less.

If Titan survives, I hope he becomes as strong as those jet dryers.

I met him for the first time yesterday. I had Joe and Leslie meet me at Dr. Lindquist’s office. I had a feeling he was going to need medical care.

He was very quiet. And he was in worse condition than I thought. He was very malnourished, and he barely moved. But I could see love in those eyes, and his tail wagged briefly several times.

At least it was warm. And there were nice people feeding him, and loving on him. His vital signs were good, his plumbing was still functioning, but he had ear infections, and several wounds that were infected.

He felt so crummy that even when Dr. Webb cleaned his ears and went spelunking for a stool sample, he groaned but didn’t move. Except when she tried to look at his swollen feet. One of them could barely support his weight: all 27.6 pounds.

He spent last night hooked up to an IV, receiving fluids and antibiotics. As of this morning, he was eating well, still taking fluids, but had been wagging his tail. (While the technician I spoke to had been off yesterday, apparently everyone at the clinic knows Titan’s story.)

He had yet to be examined by Dr. Lindquist, and he was going to be given a bath. I’m expecting an update soon, and I’ll find out if he’s well enough to be released yet.

For a little boy who’s only about 6 months old, his life has gotten off to a really rotten start.

If he survives, he’ll come home with me and learn what it’s like to have the security of a family, food, a warm bed, and friends, both the human and canine kind.

When he’s well enough, we’ll find a loving home for this special little boy.

And Titan will always be special.

He’ll never be able to live life as an outside dog. After the mental and physical challenges he’s been through just to survive, I can’t imagine a loving family wanting him to. He deserves more.

As a young puppy, he survived a very high fever, such as distemper. It killed the enamel production on his teeth, which means that he may have to have them extracted as he ages. That shouldn’t change the quality of his life though; it just means he will have to eat soft foods.

I have no idea what’s going to happen with Titan, or where this road is going to lead us.

Sometimes you just have to keep the faith, know that there’s a grander plan at work behind the scenes and we can’t possibly have all the answers.

But for now, things are as they are supposed to be. It’s in God’s hands, and so is Titan.