Sir Lancelot
A docile prince with dreamy eyes
Breed: Aussie Shepherd
Approx. Age: 8 years
Date of Rescue: 4/4/2012
Favorite Things: All things edible, long walks and even longer petting sessions, and collecting burrs in his furs.
Why We Love Him: Although he is a bit shy and submissive by nature, Lance has overcome his fear of the camera, meeting new people and abandonment.
He quickly rediscovered the joy of play and petting sessions and loves to go on adventures with his doggy friends.
Unable to Rehome: Due to injuries sustained while living on the streets of KCK which causes him to randomly spot bleed.
Lance still has some anxiety of being confined and storms. All of his bottom teeth were broken off earlier in his life. Most likely during a severe panic attack while confined.
If you would like to sponsor Lance
to help provide for his continued care, please click the link below.
His Story: The Long Version
I first noticed the black, shepherd in the summer of 2011. He would stay near the pack but always shadowing their movements as they made their way through the streets and abandoned lots of KC. I would see him move along the tree line in the distance as I put food out for the feral pack I had been working with over the last 5 years. He would slowly make his way toward the remaining bits of kibble the pack would leave behind, then he would retreat to the safety of the trees and brush. All the while, keeping his head down, gaze to the ground, side stepping any threat of confrontation.
As the summer progressed, and the heat relentlessly drove the dogs into the reprieve of night. I was putting out five gallons of water each day just to keep their thirst quenched. Every morning when I arrived to put out daily rations for the pack, I would find the water containers dry. I would return again in the afternoon to cool any remaining water and replenish their supply. Once again, before heading home for the night, I would fill the water containers and leave out enough food for the pack and any stragglers. The black, shepherd-mix was making slight progess with the pack. As long as he remained submissive to the most dominant dogs, they would allow him to eat once they had their fill. He was now able to approach the pack after they had eaten, instead of waiting for them to leave the area. Events carried on like this for more than two months before things took a turn for the worse.
The females of the pack came "into season" in mid-August and all hell broke loose. Over the next four to six weeks, male dogs came from every direction and every walk of life to harrass the females. Most would be chased off by the males of the pack, along with a few other boys from the neighborhood who had owners (but were unaltered). The black, shepherd-mix found himself in a horrific situation. He couldn't survive on the streets on his own, and he was too afraid to seek out human companionship. This forced him to take numerous daily attacks form multiple dogs. At the first crack of down til well into the night, you could here his gut wrenching cries as he begged for mercy. As many as five more dominant males would repeatedly attack and rip the fur from his body as they dragged him across the ground. I would hear him scream and see him throw his body to the ground to demonstrate his submission as they came up on him. At times, I could not keep from trying to stop his torture. If only to make the other dogs dispurse, to give him the smallest chance for escape from his tormentors. Even if only for a short period of time to lick his wounds and rest.
During these weeks, I witnessed his physical and emotional deteroration. In the first two weeks, the other dogs had ripped out so much of his fur that he appeared to have a chronic case of mange. Their were red, tender patches of raw skin covering more than half his body, he had lost at least ten pounds, and had sustained a significant injury to his right, front leg. I worried every night that he would not survive till morning. That the more aggressive, dominant males would kill him before the females "season" had passed. My worst fear was that I would find him dead, lying in the street or in the tall grass of an abandoned lot. And every day I would watch for him and search his places of refuge. On a good day, I would peer into the darkness under the porch of a condemned house and see his blue eye blinking in the shadows. By the end of September, the "season" was over and he had survived. This is when I gave him the name, Sir Lancelot, for his bravery and strength of spirit.
Lance was more afraid of me, then he was of the pack. So I waited. Always reaching out, but never pushing. Leaving him food where he would normally pass by while shadowing the pack. Over the three months Lance gradually started closing the space between us. Then, one day in January, Lance walked over to me and licked me hand. That is when I knew I had a real chance at rescuing this dog. Every day after that Lance would come to greet me (along with Granny) when I came with food. He started wagging his tail as I approached and before long he was giving me his paw. I would hold his face in my hands and lean in til our brows touched. Then I would whisper to him, "I promise to get you out of here before the next 'season'."
On April 4th of 2012, I lifted Lance into my van and drove him home. That night he slept in a kennel out back and the next day I took him to the clinic to get neutered and start his immunizations. The vet contacted me later that morning to let me know that his entire scrotum had to be removed due to infection from the brutal dog attacks he endured and that his front leg had healed incorrectly after a break. Unfortunately he will always have a limp and an issue with spot bleeding, which has kept him from finding a forever home of his very own.
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