We are crossing the border last week for a quick trip to the States to run some errands.
We had been rescheduling for at least three weeks, until we finally decided to just go on a random day during the week.
We luck out as there is very little waiting time and are on our way in less than 20 minutes.
Going 70 mph, we make it just out of Blaine, when two figures skitter onto the highway.
The gears in my brain are slow to shift. Deer? Coyotes?
Mario slams on his brakes.
“Dogs! They’re pitbulls! Stop!” I scream, as we stop two feet from two beautiful – albeit terrified – pitbulls, looking far less ferocious than you hear about on the news.
We leap out of the truck and coax them towards the bush along the I5.
The female, a beautiful blue-nose pitbull, creeps cautiously towards me. She flinches as I reach out to let her sniff my hand. She relaxes.
Mario calls animal control as I turn my attention to the male.
He must weigh 100 pounds – a big, intimidating dog, all white except for a few spots. I let him sniff my hand as I bring out one of the treats we keep for long road trips with Mila, our mastiff.
The minute my hand gets close, the hulking animal urinates out of fear and runs into the bush. I call out, but he’s gone.
I feel something against my leg; it’s the female. I feed her the treats and notice she has a laceration on her neck and bite marks on her face. It is evident that she has recently given birth.
As I look into her blue-grey eyes, I’m angry. How could someone throw away these two creatures like a pair of worn shoes?
Only weeks before in B.C., Captain, the German shepherd, was the leading story on almost every television newscast, as anchors told the story of his death in a Kitsilano dumpster.
What gives people the right to decide these animals lives are not worth anything?
When we brought Mila home from Chilliwack, we made a commitment to keep her for the rest of her life.
In a way, it may have been fate that had us decide to visit the States on a whim, bringing us right to these two dogs in need. I’m not sure many others would stop and approach two frightened pitbulls.
I guess we’re just big dog lovers – and procrastinators.
After Mario gets off the phone, we pick up the blue-nose (which I name Storm) and put her in our truck.
She leaps up and puts her head out of the window. Soon, she tires and rests her head on the console to give us kisses.
This is the dog someone thought was worth nothing.
Mario noted it may have been this gentle demeanor that resulted in her abandonment – some get pitbulls to make them look tough.
“She was probably too gentle.”
Another minus 10 points for humans.
When we meet the animal-control officer in Bellingham and swap contact information, I make a promise to Storm. No matter what, she will not be put down.
The officer is a pitbull owner herself. She assures me the humane society has many connections with local pitbull sanctuaries.
An officer is dispatched to the stretch of freeway where Storm’s mate had ran off.
On our way back, we see only darkness
Despite our success in saving Storm, I can’t shake the guilt of leaving her mate behind.
It makes me wonder why two strangers who simply happened upon these dogs care for them more deeply than someone who was entrusted with their lives.
For some, a dog is just another fashion accessory. And that’s sad.
But before I lose all faith in humanity, I remind myself that humans, like dogs, can’t be judged as a whole based on a few.
Then I reach over and give Mila a kiss and thank everyday I have her in my life.
Sarah Massah is a reporter and special-sections co-ordinator at the Peace Arch News.